This is Texas,ya’ll. (Just don’t shoot over the road.)
That's how I learned to drive. The Old Man would sit in the passenger's seat, with a .22-250 Browning Hi-wall between his legs, and I'd be practicing staying between the ditches in a 3-on-the-tree station wagon, on the section-line gravel roads.
He'd say stop, and I would, the rifle would go out the window and a crow would explode, out to 200 yards, in a corn field, and I would start doing the clutch-gas steer thing.
Crows are smart, but they weren't expecting incoming fire from the road.
And this was in Illinois...
Good times...