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My first car was my Dad’s old Chevette: we’d occasionally go on drives with a family of 6 plus dog. 6 people learned to drive a stick on that little car. My brothers and I started learning how to work on cars by installing an eight track player. At one point I replaced the springs and didn’t need a spring compresser. My little brother who got more into fixing cars said it’s great to work on because “it’s the only car I can pull the transmission and hold it one handed while still working on it”.
Even at the time, we all knew it was a crappy car, but we all learned to drive on it, all learned to fix cars on it, and we kept it on the road far longer than it deserved, with far more miles.