My dad used to let me take the truck around the block. I was like 13 or so, and he convinced me to pull it in the driveway. We're talking a HUGE F-250 here. So my mom's van is already parked and the driveway starts out one car with and then widens to two, which I think is pretty standard. I got flustered, and was going too fast and my dad starting screaming STOP and I started panicking and I stepped on the gas. I slammed on the brake about an inch and a half from the van. He was purple, I was hysterical. His ultimate response? "Throw it in reverse and try again." I just stared at him, said heck no and went inside. It was traumatizing.
When we moved, I was the designated lawn mower. We had about 3 acres and I used a rider. I think it helped some, but it's so different from an actual car.