Is there such a thing as a "smooth" real estate transaction anymore? Some weeks I feel like I spend all of my time yelling out the window.
It’s a little trick I picked up in high school. About 87 years ago, when I was 15, my number came up and it was time to take the dreaded "behind the wheel" course. Mean bureaucrats everywhere make this a requirement to getting a driver’s license — even in Texas.
And it was because of this silly prerequisite that I found myself seated behind the very large dashboard of an actual motor vehicle (if you consider a Plymouth Belvedere an "actual motor vehicle," which most serious automobile enthusiasts do not).
I was seated next to an actual driving instructor, or as they like to call them in Texas: the football coach.
I’m sure that driver’s training has gotten more sophisticated today. But back then, when dinosaurs and disco roamed the earth, it was pretty basic stuff. We would bring our cars to the empty parking lot and, one at a time, while the rest of the class congregated on the adjacent sidewalk anxiously waiting their turns, we would hit the gas.