Trial and Error
My secretary is proud of herself today, particularly because she has learned to drive a stick shift. Her husband taught her. I, on the other hand, followed the trial by fire method.
I had come home from college one vacation to find that my car needed repairs. Since this was the case, my father told me to drive his truck, an extra vehicle, for the week since I was going down to South Texas and needed wheels other than roller skates. It turns out that it hadn't occurred to him that I couldn't drive a standard.
I was supposed to meet Daddy downtown for lunch at 12:30 the next day, so I figured if I left the house by 9 a.m. I could make the 7 mile trip to his office and be there on time. Scary but true, it took every bit of that time. That morning was one of the very few times I have cursed the fact that we live at the top of a hill. Let's just say that backing out of the driveway left me inching down the hill (backwards!) while I figured out how the clutch worked. But I eventually made it downtown and then made it to South Texas (thank heavens it was all highway) where I didn't drive again until it was time for me to head back home. By the end of the weekend I was actually getting pretty good. By that time I had discovered 3rd and 4th gears, since apparently I had been shifting 1, 2, 5.
To his credit, when my father discovered how I had learned to drive a standard (years later and I made sure he was in a good mood first) he blamed himself. He said it should have occurred to him that no one had taught me how before he loaned me his truck. That was one of the few car-related confessions I have made to him that didn't end with one of us mad.
My secretary's husband, on the other hand, has not been so understanding about her lessons. I'm not sure they're on speaking terms at the moment. I'm not going to ask, but it can't be too bad. After all, the land around their house is flat.
I had come home from college one vacation to find that my car needed repairs. Since this was the case, my father told me to drive his truck, an extra vehicle, for the week since I was going down to South Texas and needed wheels other than roller skates. It turns out that it hadn't occurred to him that I couldn't drive a standard.
I was supposed to meet Daddy downtown for lunch at 12:30 the next day, so I figured if I left the house by 9 a.m. I could make the 7 mile trip to his office and be there on time. Scary but true, it took every bit of that time. That morning was one of the very few times I have cursed the fact that we live at the top of a hill. Let's just say that backing out of the driveway left me inching down the hill (backwards!) while I figured out how the clutch worked. But I eventually made it downtown and then made it to South Texas (thank heavens it was all highway) where I didn't drive again until it was time for me to head back home. By the end of the weekend I was actually getting pretty good. By that time I had discovered 3rd and 4th gears, since apparently I had been shifting 1, 2, 5.
To his credit, when my father discovered how I had learned to drive a standard (years later and I made sure he was in a good mood first) he blamed himself. He said it should have occurred to him that no one had taught me how before he loaned me his truck. That was one of the few car-related confessions I have made to him that didn't end with one of us mad.
My secretary's husband, on the other hand, has not been so understanding about her lessons. I'm not sure they're on speaking terms at the moment. I'm not going to ask, but it can't be too bad. After all, the land around their house is flat.
posted by Lisa at 7:46 AM
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