When I was 10, my brother started having football practice after school, so Daddy took me out to help him feed. It was a late 50's Chevy stick shift. I remember he told me not to pop the clutch, but forgot to explain what that meant. So, I of course, did just that and threw him out of the back of the truck holding a 50 lb. bag of feed. I jumped out and ran for the house. He hauled me back and told me to get in there and drive. But he did explain about popping the clutch first. Daddy and I spent some good time together feeding and talking.