Stick-shift 101

If you have ever had trouble learning to drive a stick-shift, this will bring back happy??? memories.  This is my true story.

"This is the worst mistake of my life, " I muttered.  "What on earth could have possessed you to do such a thing?"   In most cases I always try to look at every possible angle - the pros and the cons, the good vs. the bad, and well, you get the picture.  In my case, what could go wrong did.  I was about to enter my own "Outer Limits."

A friend of mine, Jack,  had a S-10 light pickup truck and I was impressed with its easy of handling, and so much easier to get in and out of, unlike my car.   I had no trouble getting into my car, but getting out was another story.  I often had to give myself a little pep talk as I muttered, "anda one, and two, and push!"  I could get my left foot out okay but my right foot often got caught on the frame causing me to do a little one-legged dance.  Any passerby would have guffawed outloud. 

Jack helped me in my search and that is when I discovered just how much one with an automatic transmission costs.   Since I was dead set on getting a truck, it would have to be one with a stick shift.  However, I did not know how to drive a stick.  Jack offered to teach me on his truck and so for many months he would take me out on old country roads, a wise decision on his part, so I could practice. 

Mental imagery is so important when learning to drive a stick as I quickly learned.   Our parents tell us "keep your eyes on the road!"   Well forget that!  My zone of concentration was on the gearshift and pedals.    I had a hard time figuring out when I had to shift.  The straining of the engine should have been a clue, and I noticed that the grinding of the gears was becoming a popular sound inside the truck.  I began to think Henry Ford must have had a twisted mind for conjuring up such a ridiculous configuration.

With the help of Jack, I finally got my dream truck off the back lot of a GMC dealership in 1989.  It was bright blue and a bare to the bones truck with just a bench seat, no radio, no power steering (what could I have been thinking) and a standard transmission.  The dealership was on Hamilton Rd in southeast Columbus, 40 miles south of Delaware, where I live.    The fastest way to get back home is straight up Interstate 71.   I was terrified.  I imagine stalling out on a heavily congested four-lane highway, and getting myself killed and others as well.   The only sane solution remaining was for Jack to drive my brand new truck home (the only brand new vehicle I have ever owned) while I followed in his old automatic car.  I was downtrodden all the way home.   

At age 39, I was about to enter my own comic relief tour.  Having traded in my car, I just had the truck to get around in.  The constant lurching and stalling was wearing me ragged and it was only the first day.    I was scared stiff - I knew I would be driving on my own now.  Jack would not be there to keep the rest of the driving world safe from me - I was a menace.   I could see myself being hauled up before a judge.  I would be letting all of "women-dom" down as I heard the judge gleefully say "women drivers."

My first taste of disaster came after I got off work from my factory job the next day - I stalled out in after work bumper to bumper traffic.   Horns were honking, shouts of impatience, and cursing were filtering up to my ears as I desperately tried to extricate myself from this situation.   The joy of my new truck was quickly disappearing.   I remedied the situation after that disaster by arrivng 90 minutes before my shift started and waiting a full 45 minutes before leaving for home, after traffic had cleared out.  As a liberated, independent woman I chided myself over the fact that my life was controlled by an inanimate machine.  It was though the truck had taken on a life of its own, mocking me, saying "Ha, ha, I laugh at thee."

On the weekends I practiced in the cemetery where it was quiet.  Standard transmissions have an additional pedal, the clutch which was my archrival.  Remember Lurch the butler on Addams Family.  I should have named the truck Lurch.  At times I felt like I had permanent whiplash from the truck constantly jerking to a stop.

All in all, learning to drive a standard transmission was one of the most infuriating experiences of my life.  I cried, yelled, and thought I was on the verge of going mad, but eventually I gained a respect for myself, that I was indeed capable of overcoming obstacles that were placed before me.   I had my truck for over 10 years and loved every minute of it once I finally learned to be drive it.   But everyone should be aware, if you ever decide to purchase a truck, regardless of what size it is, that at some point in your ownership you will end up as a pseudo North American Van Lines for friends and family.    Enjoy!