Baking potatoes in open fires in the vacant lot (I was about eight years old). Mind you, that was considered dangerous even then - it's not as if we were allowed to do it. But what the eye doesn't see, the heart doesn't grieve over.
When I was fourteen, I started working on my mother to allow me to drive her car. Eventually she gave in and I spent much of my time after that driving around town. Was stopped a couple of times by the cops but had the luck not to be asked for my licence. The driving age where I grew up was sixteen. By the time I reached that age I was a fully fledged boy racer and could throw a car round with the best of them. Looking back, I am amazed at the things I was allowed to get away with but must admit that I'm also grateful that I had that freedom.
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