The further you go back, the easier it was...
My late father turned up to get his licence on his 21st birthday back in 1936. He'd of course been driving on the cane farm outside Childers since he could reach the pedals. He drove into town, dropping his father off at a hardware store, and went to the police station to see about getting his licence. The copper took the details, and said "I suppose we'd better go for a drive then". They went outside and the cop looked around, seeing only my fathers 1926 Chev 4 tourer and no one in sight, and said "Who drove you here?", and my old man said sheepishly "Erm...dad did." The cop said "Hang on, I know you...I've seen you driving into town to get stuff for that farm on the hill...you cheeky little bugger...I suppose we should just go and write you out a licence then...come on inside."
