(I am 15 and am taking a driver’s ed course so I will be able to get my license when I turn 16. We are sitting in class one day and watching a video about skidding on icy roads. One car had just slid into a ditched but is otherwise unharmed. Then another car comes up behind it.)

Me: “That looks like my grandma’s car.”

Drivers Ed Instructor: “Well, Grandma’s going into a ditch.”

(Sure enough, the car that resembled my grandmother’s slid into the ditch and the rest of the class burst out laughing.)

(My driving instructor is prone to very dry humor. I make a comment on how small the gas pedal is on this particular brand of car compared to others.)

Me: “How do your students who have large feet drive this thing without pressing two pedals at once?”

Driving Instructor: *deadpan* “I chop off their toes. I have a saw in the trunk for that.”

Me: “You’re sadistic!”

Driving Instructor: “Nah, I’m just convenient.”

(Cue a ten minute conversation on how well people can live with severed toes.)

(I am learning to drive. Because I am near-sighted, my learner’s permit notes that I must wear corrective lenses while driving. I am getting in the car with the instructor for a practice drive.)

Instructor: “Do you have your learner’s permit?”

Me: “Yes.” *hands it over*

Instructor: *notices the restriction* “Do you have your contact lenses?”

Me: *adjusts my glasses* “…No. No, I do not.”

(I am taking driver’s ed in the late 1970s at the YMCA. It is an odd class in that it is made up of students from good private schools too small to have a program of their own, rural students (again, too small for a program), students who flunked at big schools, and the occasional person who just didn’t fit in anywhere. Median age is about two years higher than normal. Questions to the class get some bizarre answers:)

Teacher: “How many of you have crashed a car and how old were you?”

Farm Kid: *raises hand* “Me, when I was 10.”

Teacher: “On a farm, I assume. I had a farm kid who wrecked his first car at age four. Okay, let’s go around the class and tell what jobs you’ve got.”

Assorted Students: “Fast food place, car wash, babysitting, etc.”

(Weirdly enough, I was a magician’s assistant at the time.)

Girl: *about 17-18, made up to look 25, wears 8″ platform shoes, loud mini-skirt, tight top with some feather effect* “Um… unemployed?”

(At the driver’s education course I take, the classes are half practical work and half class work. As the practical driving happens before the class work, most of the students are tired in class. In order to keep us on our toes, the instructor has paid a friend to come into the class in wild costumes and just walk to the back of the room. The third time this happens, I ask the instructor about it.)

Me: “So, about the guy in the costume…”

Instructor: “Just something to keep you awake. I can’t rely on the melodramatic ‘consequences of drunken driving videos’ to do that, because everyone in the class has seen those.”

Me: “No, I got that when he came in as a wizard on the first day. But I’m just wondering why either of you thought this costume was appropriate?”

Instructor: “What do you mean? That’s a beekeeper outfit.”

Me: “It’s bright yellow and has a gasmask, not a veil. How do you think a bunch of students are going to react to seeing a guy in full HAZMAT gear enter the class?”

Instructor: “Well… I see your point.”

(The next and last time we saw the guy in costume, he came in wearing Starfleet Reds.)