My first "real" boyfriend drove a '65 red mustang. It had a beaten-up front fender, one headlight and a few dings on the side, but I loved that car.
I didn't know how to drive a stick. But one Friday night, when I was 14 years old and house parties were common, I talked Aaron into teaching me how. There was a house party across town that needed my presence and because Aaron wasn't able to go, I convinced him to let me drive the "Stang". It was a small town, where I lived, and a driver's permit would have been enough if I'd been pulled over. (I assumed).
After a 30 minute neck-jerking, clutch-burning lesson, Aaron was so exhausted he told me to just go. People in the party said they heard me coming and then heard me going. Except I didn't go. I tried. In fact I tried really hard, but Aaron hadn't showed me how to put the car in reverse. I must have ground (grinded?) those gears and bucked and jerked for twenty minutes. By the time someone came outside I was at the wheel sweating like the Klan was en-route.
"Go call Aaron --- 5421 --- and tell him I can't get his car to back up." My town was small enough that the first three digits of everyone's phone number was the same, so all you had to give was the last four.
The person went inside, returned a minute later and said, "He wants to talk to you."
I had to get out of the car and walk through the party to the kitchen where the phone hung on the wall. Except, of course, I didn't just walk through. I kind of danced my way to the kitchen, stopping occasionally so that I could throw my hands in the air and yell, Heyyyy!".
I grabbed the receiver, tried to untwist that crazy, boingy cord thing and yelled, "That car's crazy, man!"
"Do you really need to back up?"
"No I don't really need to back up."
He then instructed me to find someone who could drive a stick and have them back the car out for me. So I danced my way back into the living room. "Heyyy! Can any of y'all drive a stick?" There wasn't one girl. Not one. Almost every boy, though, raised his hand and waved it to the beat.
When I got home, I called Aaron and told him he could get his car in the morning.
After school the next day, in a half-empty parking lot, he taught me how to put a 1965 Mustang in reverse.