My grandfather had 4 daughters, and they were all good drivers. Snow, ice, rain, twisty mountain roads, you name it. Parallel parking was never a problem. At least two of them raced when they were young. This was all normal in Eastern Kentucky.
When they got married, Gramps bought three of the girls cars. One specified a 360-HP Thunderbird. Another got a 4-speed convertible Corvette with a 365-HP 327. Years later, another one needed a car, so she ordered a '70 Skylark with a 455 "to get up and down these hills." The base 455 had 510 lb.ft.. of torque. Unfortunately, my mom got stuck with a DeSoto. But she drove my 4-speed Z28 like a man. Completely wound it out in first gear. She was very critical of my manual-transmission driving when I got the car.
When I lived in Miami, a woman asked me to switch seats with her and put her Honda Accord in a space she thought was too tight. Head-in. Disgraceful. No one down there can drive at all.
Where I live, there are three types of drivers who consistently disappoint. Ancient retirees, people from up north, and people from South Florida.
