My sister was away last week and left me with her car so that I could run the engine occasionally. Now there is nothing unusual about that except for one small issue – her car has manual transmission and I cannot remember the last time I drove one of those. She, on the other hand, has always preferred stick shift cars which, by the way, have become as rare as gold dust. She had to wait quite a while before she could find this particular car, and turned down several offers to buy others because they were automatic. Interestingly, when the dealer called to say he had found the car she wanted, he said he had received many offers for it from very interested customers!
For my peace of mind, I decided that I would just start the car occasionally in my parking area but for errands, I would stick with my own which, like most cars today, has automatic transmission. But of course, the inevitable happened – I had to use the ‘strange’ car to run an errand because my car had a recurring problem that needed to be checked by the mechanic and the other car was of town with the hubby. That left me with my sister’s car – and the very problem I had tried hard to avoid.
Even before I started it, I was already plotting my route to ensure that I avoided any hills that would require me to balance in first gear. Memories of my driving school days flooded my mind – the instructor looking for the most vertical hills where I could practise my hill starts; trying to stick to the right lane on the roundabout (although going by the freestyle criss-crossing I see on our roundabouts today, that particular rule seems to have been tossed out the window); and the neck-straining three-point turns...
The drama began as soon as I turned the key in the ignition. I hadn’t noticed that the car was in gear (although I really don’t think that would have made a difference) and got the shock of my life when it jumped. It took me a few seconds to figure out what the problem was; thank God the hand brake was still up. Then I started fighting with the gear to engage ‘reverse’ but each time I tried to move backwards, the car did the opposite. Who knew this would be rocket science? Finally, I had to call our oldest, who has driven the car before, for help. With his guidance I was able to leave the parking spot while hoping the watchman would quickly open the gate, which stands at the top of a slope. I am still hoping he didn’t notice the car jerking its way out of the compound.
When kindness is a problem
Then I had to face the traffic while remembering to depress the clutch while gearing up or down. At one busy junction, I stopped to wait for a long line of oncoming cars to pass but then one kind motorist decided to slow down and let me go – before I was mentally or physically ready – and I only remembered at the last second to engage gear one otherwise I would have surely stalled. Who knew kindness could be a problem?
I’m glad to report that me and the car made it back home in one piece and that I remembered to use the hand brake on the one hill I encountered at some red traffic lights, while praying that the driver behind me did not get too close in case I needed space to roll backwards. I must say the mind is an amazing tool because by the third time I was using the car, my coordination was a lot smoother as my brain reminded me how to work the clutch and gear like someone who knew what they were doing, plus I was no longer nervous.
But I know I will have to re-adjust once my sister comes for her car and I revert to mine. I expect that for a few days I will be fumbling around, trying to locate a non-existent clutch and attempting to, quite unnecessarily, shift gears.