are doomed to repeat it.  Sometimes, so are the people who remember it.

I got my start behind the wheel in a parking lot, at one point with a ginormous floaty Lincoln.  Never on the street – escalation is bad, mmkay? Then more lots, and then finally on the road with Dad.

So too with my kid.  Kid2 just got a learner’s permit.  Kid 2 has long ago driven a Continental in an empty parking lot.  Today it was more lots and then a couple of cautious forays onto the street.

The big difference?  A stick shift that was not a total fail. Also, a cop.

Oh shit.  A cop.  He was looking at us.  We need to switch places.
Dad, I’ve got my permit. We’re legal.
Sorry.  Force of habit.