There is always one person or fictional character that kids identify with. Mine was James Bond. I liked him because he could, quite literally, do everything. Ski off a cliff, then pop open a Union Jack parachute and glide to safety? Check. Tilt a car up on two wheels to escape down a narrow alleyway? Check. Leap crocodiles? Jump a speedboat? Get the girl? Check, check, and check.

I didn’t know the term at the time, but Bond was a Renaissance Man, and that’s what I wanted to be when I grew up—someone who could do just about anything. I haven’t reached that point yet, but I’ve tried, and along the way, I’ve come to believe that life is about adding tools (read: skills) to your toolbox, both mental and physical.

Which brings me to the subject of daughters, driving, and what we car lovers pass on to the next generation

I’m blessed with three daughters, all of whom share (or possibly just tolerate) their dad’s life-is-learning philosophy and are thus good-natured about me teaching them things. This summer’s project was driving a manual. My middle daughter, Sophia, learned to drive an automatic last year, but as a member of a car family, she understands that driving a modern automatic car isn’t a full driving experience. Real driving is about feeling like you and the car are one. It’s about mastery of a mechanical object. And freedom. And being in control. And tight corners. And long straightaways. And a whole bunch of other things, as well.

Or so I see it.

So, we decided her classrooms would be a 1930 Deluxe Model A roadster and a 1932 Ford hi-boy roadster hot rod. (Access to cool, old cars is a perk around here.)

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