It's that kind of danger that begins to touch on how the Model T, which turns 100 today, rattled its way into the heart of Americans and changed the world. The thrill was worth the risk to people wanting to drive into the future. And now, I know what it's like to drive into the past. During the summer hoopla over the car's centennial, Ford Motor Co. offered me a driving lesson in the most iconic American vehicle ever made. Today, automakers change a car's looks ever few years. Powertrains get updated and structural upgrades are continual. Henry Ford pretty much produced the same car from 1908 to 1927 -- though some advances were added, such as an electric start, a roof and a few doors. Back then, Bluetooth was only available during Michigan winters and navigation systems required a paper map. Through the years, Ford built 15 million Model Ts, making it the second best-selling car ever (losing its No. 1 spot to the Volkswagen Beetle decades later). Honestly, the Model T is complicated to operate, bounces like a runaway buggy and brakes slightly better than a mudslide. It was terrifying; it was exhilarating. On my short jaunt from Ford's Fair Lane Estate to the company's world headquarters, I tried to master the steering-column-mounted accelerator while also attempting to solve the mystery of those pedals on the floor. They're simple really. Starting from the left, they do this: Left pedal: push it all the way down for first gear, let it all the way out for second gear. Somewhere in the middle is neutral. Middle pedal: push it all the way down for reverse. Right pedal: brake, but don't expect much actual braking as a band wraps around the transmission to slow the rear wheels down. 'If you need to make an emergency stop, push in all three,' my patient instructor told me. 'That usually will stop it.' Usually? I never had to try the emergency procedures, though often I'd forget what all of the controls did. I would try to accelerate and adjust the spark control (which is also on the steering column and operates when the spark fires inside the engine). I would try to find neutral and end up in second or first. Then I would stall it. But along Michigan Avenue, under the watchful eye of my instructor, I was able to drop her into second, goose the accelerator and feel the engine surge. The narrow wagon wheels (with wooden spokes) wobbled and we lurched forward, perhaps topping 30 mph. The steering wheel shuddered in my hands, offering a few inches of play each way as we continued to speed up. The thrill, the speed, this thing is faster than Ty Cobb and the backseat has so much room -- I can see where the greatest generation was conceived. Pulling up to the Fair Lane Estate, I could feel that growing nostalgia, my heart racing to the click, click, clicking of the engine. Henry Ford pulled up to this house, so many years ago, in a car just like this. I bet he knew how to turn it off. Scott Burgess is the auto critic for The Detroit News. He can be reached at (313) 223-3217 or sburgessdteom.