I learned to drive at a very young age, and not just a car. Like the animals, Grampa collected all sorts of stuff. All of which we had full access to. We'd ride dirt bikes, mopeds, and go-carts up and down the deep ditches along the highway while cars zoomed passed (yes, I'm a thrill seaker).
We had tractors - when I was really little, we thought it was the absolute coolest that Grampa would give us "train tractor" rides. He'd hook up a string of mis-matched wagons (one of which had a porta-potty chair in it which served as a seat) hooked up behind his mowing tractor that had the infamous car-hood ornament secured to the front and we would chug along with all the kids (friends, cousins, anyone) piled on board, wherever we could fit. He'd make a big hooplah out of it, honking the horns (oh yes, grampa had many horns - the loudest and craziest possible, because he was loud, in everyway) and letting everyone know, here we come, ready or not.
We also had a yellow large tractor with a scoop on front that he'd give us rides in and we'd pick apples at the top of trees, unicycles (Yes, I can ride a Unicycle!), a three-wheeled bike with a basket on it, etc. (I do a lot of etc.'s because the list could seriously go on and on, but you get it, it was crazy.)
Grampa had a gold-colored crysler convertable. This was my car - I couldn't have been more than 12 yrs old. All Grampa said is that if I got caught (meaning pulled over by the police) that he'd tell them I stole it. This was enough to deter me from going much farther than our dirt road. One cold and snowy winter, I had my 3 bestest, closest gal-pals over. (sadly, I later grew apart from my friends because I moved) Us girls had just gotten done putting dreads, which were really just a bunch of itty bitty braids, all over our heads.
The four of us piled into the gold convertable with me behind the wheel (just us kids), put the top down and drove around with the 20 degree wind blowing thru our white-girl braids. good times.