Your experience reminds me of an escapade from the 1950s when I was a mere slip of a thing.

My brother's girlfriend and I, temporarily abandoned at home, found the key to my brother's big, black Oldsmobile. Blithely ignoring her lack of a drivers license, she turned the key in the ignition and we took off. It was a dark night and neither of us knew the town.

We wandered around on side streets for awhile to avoid any cops, and not having all that much fun. We found ourselves on a dead ended street- my friend put the car in reverse and straight up and over a neatly piled cord of firewood. I groaned. We wrecked the pile and dragged a few sticks with us as we hurried away.

Somewhat shaken, she decided to head home. At the intersection we had to stop because of an oncoming car, and when we started across we lurched and bucked and rattled. Feeling a cop practically breathing down my neck, I groaned 'Shit...' She thought I had ordered her to 'shift' and she gasped, 'I did!'