My Dad and I bought a 1970 Triumph Spitfire that a retired serviceman brought back from England for his son. His son had bought a Corvette and did not want the Spitfire. The serviceman told us it was a racing car that had been bored out to 1600cc. It was a mean little machine, I quickly learned how to keep it in tip top condition and drive it. Before long at age 17, I began earning a reputation as a skilled driver. Many people would say to me "I hear you can drive?" and I would show them what I could do in my little car. One day, my neighbor (my age) ask me so I took him to a street that was one block long, a sharp turn to the left for one block and took a sharp right into a wider street.
I told him to swing his hips into the turns and we would be fine. I had him strap in and I peeled out in first and second, burning rubber. As I took the left I shifted to into third, fishtailed right, and went down the block with my rear end slightly ahead of my front end. In this position I could see across the field and see if there was any traffic, there was none. As I approached the turn I shifted to fourth with a squeal flipped the car around and fishtailed left with my rear leading my nose down the road and pulled into a smooth turn heading the right way in a correct path. My neighbor just said with an awestruck face, "You can drive!" I busted out laughing.
A few months later he needed a ride out of town, I figured what the hay, "Let's go!" Cruising down the highway with the top down, I was going about 5 mph above the speed limit when my neighbor comment "When you can, change lanes again." I did and he look at me with this astonished face and said "You hop when you change lanes!" I had a blank look on my face and he raised his hand, motioned and said "You don't move like other cars, they slide from side to side. You hop!" I smiled and said "It's all in the wrists!" And, we both had a good laugh.