My dad learned the hard way:  never bring hot coffee along when teaching a 16-year-old how to drive a stick shift.  We bounced around the high school parking lot in the rusty little 70’s Dodge Colt, almost banging into curbs and barely missing light poles.  It took me a while but I got the hang of it and then I loved it.  There was that one time, though, when I was still getting used to the whole idea and accidentally put my clutch in instead of the brake as we rounded a corner.  My mom shrieked.  My little sis and brother laughed and flew around in the back seat. Continue reading →