I cannot move my hands and my feet at the same time. Listening to an iPod and walking is a struggle for me. I once had to be individually coached during a kickboxing class when we were doing jumping jacks because I couldn't get the timing right and flailed around like a graceless, awkward manatee having a seizure.
I tell you this only because hopefully, knowing about my severe lack of co-ordination, you can imagine how difficult it has been for me this past week as I have struggled to learn to drive the car my father got for me, which happens to have standard transmission.
The thing about driving a standard is everyone seems to have a different technique. In my beloved automatic, there was no technique required. When you got to a Stop sign, you stopped. Foot on the break. When the way was clear, you took your foot off the break and applied it to the gas pedal. Done. When approaching a turn, you took your foot off the gas, slowed down, smoothly took the curve, then sped up again. Easy peasy. Smooth as silk. It was thoughtless and it was beautiful.
In a standard, approaching a Stop sign is a cause for a lot of concern. How do I slow down? How to I stop? Worst of all, how do I start going again?
I've been talking myself through it. Yes, out loud. “Foot off gas. Other foot on clutch. Break. Shift down. Shift down more. And again. Stop. Whew. Made it. Oh no. Time to go. Foot off break. Foot on gas. Foot off clutch — slow, slow, slow. Now gas. C'mon, c'mon — too slow. Stalled. Stalled again.”
I used to have a reoccurring nightmare when I was a child that involved being in a car that suddenly started rolling away, and being unable to stop it. This nightmare came true in the Sobey's parking lot when my best friend suggested I park in neutral so my car didn't jerk forward if I started it without the clutch in.
I learned two lessons. One, don't park in neutral. Two, don't take advice from people who have never driven standard.
I'm willing to celebrate the small victories, though. I drove through two intersections in Vermilion with traffic on all sides, and I didn't stall. It was shaky and loud and I spun my tires, but I didn't jerk to a violent and embarrassing stop in the middle of traffic.
There was some fist pumping and cries of triumph, I won't lie.
The worst part is that other traffic makes me nervous, so I stall. Stalling makes me more nervous, so I stall again. And again. My record is seven times. Then I waved the car behind me ahead, and as soon as they were out of sight, managed to get going again.
So if you see me stalling, close your eyes. I can drive a standard, but only when no one's looking.
