I was probably 7 or 8 when my dad who was an MP in WWII and probably had learned a thing or two about driving while he was stationed in France, had me pulling that boat out of the garage. The narrow ally made difficult enough but my dad had rented the other half of the garage to "The Swede" to keep his 14' skiff. He would watch from outside as it was probably easier for me to get in the car while it was squeezed into the garage. I can still remember turning the key and bringing that great 383 to life, so began my love affair with driving.