4 Cents on Driving Stick

For my 1976 high school graduation, my daddy asked (and answered), "What kind of car do you want, a Chevette? Good.  That's what you are going to get." So... for a graduation gift, I received a pea green 4-speed manual transmission Chevette. I waited with bated breath for my parents to bring my new car home. Upon their arrival, and since I had no idea how to drive a stick, daddy put me in the passenger side and proceeded to demonstrate "how easy it is" to drive a manual transmission vehicle. My demo lasted around the neighborhood block.

After the demo, he said, "now it's your turn" and I reluctantly took over the driver's position. Instead of a nice smooth ride around the block, it was more like riding a bucking bronco as I popped the clutch, jerked and leaped the car, and slammed on the brakes. My daddy yelled repeatedly how I was going to ruin the car before it had a 100 miles on it. Frankly I was a bag of nerves and daddy was just plain 'ole irritated with me for not mastering the drive in the first minutes. (Although not said, I'm sure he secretly thought if I were a boy I wouldn't even have needed the demo).

I pulled up to my house after the only block ride together and said, "I love you daddy, but get out of the car." In the same jerky style I proceeded to the home of one of my guy friends, who gave me manual transmission driving lessons. Thankfully his lessons included a drive on a deserted road with a long steep hill where he made me stop/start a thousand times until I could smoothly release the clutch while giving just the right amount of gas to avoid the dreaded clutch pop and backwards roll. By the end of the evening I was pretty proficient.

So there began my love affair with driving a manual transmission that has lasted over 35 years. I loved the feel of the shifting stick in my hand (which I often related to my girlfriends as part of the male anatomy -- all different shapes and sizes and to be treated with love and respect); the release of the clutch; the application of the right amount of pressure on the gas -- all when combined just perfectly created the jump off the line or allowed you to lay just the right amount of rubber on the road; and the perfect "Fonz"-like coolness. Oh Happy Days!

Since then I've also had a lot of manual transmission vehicles, including a Mercedes SLK 320 and a Jeep (the 'ole CJ5 type). All a blast to drive, but my first love always holds a special place in my heart: the Chevette.

So... is there a moral or point to the story? Not really -- it's just a cool story and that's my 2 cents.

Note: Time Magazine voted the Chevette as one of the 50 worst cars of all times.