A few weeks after turning 16 I got my first car. I was so excited as I flung open the door and sat behind the wheel of MY car. I looked the inside over with admiration and giddy anticipation. Then I saw something very unfamiliar. An uncomfortable feeling grew in the pit of my stomach.
"It's a four speed!" I screeched. My dad's mustache curled up at the sides. He laughed as if he had pulled a fast one on me. He knew that I would have never wanted the car if I knew he was going to force me to learn to drive a manual.
"Now, I'm going to drive it home to my house and then you are going to drive it home to your house," he said.
"But that's at least five miles!" I screamed.
"I know." My dad crossed his arms and nodded his head as his smile widened.
I didn't take my car home that day but it remained in dad's garage. Dad opted to give it a tune up. I think he knew I wasn't quite ready to take on the open road without some practice. I visited his house every free chance I got for the next few weeks but I couldn't get the hang of the gearshift/clutch coordination. My brother and step siblings thought this was hilarious. As soon as I would get into my car to drive it around the block they'd all race outside to watch me try to back up and pull away. "RRRRRRNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN," the EXP would let out a cry as the engine revved. And then the car would start bucking, my head bobbing as I raced to push the clutch into the floor in order to save it from stalling. My family would often find themselves rolling around in the freshly mowed grass exhausted from laughing so hard.
When my dad felt confident in my gear changing abilities it was time to take my sweet baby home. Just me and her and the click, click, click of her push button radio. With her windows rolled down and humid mid July air hitting my face, I pulled out of my dad's development. I pulled out in first, bucking the whole way as I spied my family rolling around in the grass behind me as I looked through my rear view mirror. I shifted into second smoothly once she got rolling.
I drove two miles down the road to the town square which was a four way intersection. I had prayed to the good Lord above he let me hit that intersection with a green light but it was not to be. The intersection was in the middle of a town called New Freedom, named so because it was the first town the slaves came to when they crossed the Mason Dixon line, finding new found freedom, hence the name. However; New Freedom chose to offer me no new found freedom that day!
"Damn!" I yelled to a non-existent passenger. Butterflies started fluttering so hard inside my stomach they were making me nauseous as my hand flooded the gearshift knob with perspiration. The light turned green all too soon. I tried to manage to keep my baby running but she really preferred her clutch to be let out slowly. When I let it fly she let me know by bucking violently. Horns were blowing all around me as I desperately tried to restart her. Finally after what seemed like an eternity I got the situation under control and was able to pull away, bucking through the intersection, but she stayed running. I raced down the road trying to distance myself from the line of traffic, still embarrassed. I wanted to distance myself from the other cars in case I would stall yet again, I wanted a buffer zone.
Over time I got used to driving a manual and did so fluidly. I drove that car everywhere and my little two-seater often sat six of my friends and me uncomfortably. My entire family still talks about me learning to drive that first car. I should add that I got the last laugh over all of them because out of all my brothers and sisters, dad and stepmother, guess who turned out to be the best, the smoothest, clutch shifting driver in the family?