The first time I took my driving test, the driving agency was part of the county armory. So a lot of Army brass hanging around.
My driving instructor was this staff sergeant (she was butch). Tattoos before tattoos on women were cool. Couldn't understand a word she said because she had marbles in her mouth. "Make a right turn" came out as "Qwjisnkd%*##scnarff". Failed with flying colors.
The second time, the instructor was a civilian. No marbles. Passed without a hitch.
The hardest thing for me back then was parallel parking. Try parking a 1974 Chevelle station wagon (picture the Griswalds in "Vacation"). The car is a city block long. Very hard to maneuver in tight spots.
They still let you pass even if you knocked down one of the orange cones.
Knocked down one (actually ran it over and squashed it!) but they gave me my license all the same.
Maybe things were different then, and they allowed a certain "margin of error".
I imagine the standards would be a lot higher now.