My Dad started letting me drive everywhere we went together when I was late fourteen. His truck, my Mom's car, and our dually with a thirty eight foot long, eight foot wide horse trailer. He said he wanted to make sure that by the time I really had my license and could drive by myself, I would have a lot of experience under my belt. Smart.
This "real life driving" also included changing tires when we had blow outs. At the time, I was pretty sure that qualified as child abuse, but when I sat along the side of a six lane interstate just outside of Dallas, Texas as an eighteen year old with a blown out trailer tire, I was glad that all that "child abuse" had been inflicted upon me.
I was back on the road in 15 minutes.
That Dad of mine, smart.