Let us be your been-there, made-that-mistake research buddy.
I was 16, and the only hurdle between me and my driver's license was
maneuverability, the test where mean people set up cones a few inches apart so
you can squeeze your car between them — backward. All my practice yielded only
Big sisters to the rescue. Jen and Becky, three and two years older than me,
packed me and our soccer pylons into the minivan and made tracks for the nearest
parking lot. Having recently been green behind the wheel themselves, they
remembered all the tricks and coached me through the cones: “Right … left … cut
hard back to the right!” That was years ago, but I still can parallel park with
the best of 'em.