Manual Transmission II: the Saga Continues...

Years had passed since my first traumatic experience with the Honda Prelude. I had avoided the stick shift car for quite some time, driving it occaissionally with Dad teaching me tid-bits here and there. The time I learned the most was from a lesson Dad gave me while driving my uncle's truck ( we were moving Q's furniture in Davis). Since then, I developed a fascination with the manual transmission.

I had often asked other people why they wanted manual transmission cars and I always thought the answer was pure baloney: because I have more control over the car with a manual transmission. Well, if driving a stick shift was anything like the Prelude, how in the world could anyone have MORE control over that? It was a wildly bucking and lurching 2 ton catastrophe waiting to happen. But that same answer was consistent across the board, regardless of who I asked. My fascination with it grew.

So when I chose my first car, which was a 1996 Honda Civic, I wanted to make sure it was a stick shift. However, I was far from mastering the art of using a manual transmission. In fact, at the dealer while I was test driving one I was quite scared I was going to trash the transmission. Thank God I didn't.

Anyway, I was actually able to get the Civic all the way home from the dealer's in one piece without killing anyone else, practically coasting all the way home riding the clutch (big no-no). After a week or so of coasting around in the car, riding the clutch most of the time, Q took me aside and told me he was going to teach me how to master the art of the stick. A rather brave and daring deed, especially if he was going to be in the car with me.

Living in San Francisco with all the hills, it was easy to find a street with a 40 degree incline. Q drove the car up the hill and stopped midway, put the car in neutral, put the parking brake on, and told me to get in the driver's seat. My task was to put the car in gear and get the car moving, again without stalling. There's no way I'll be able to do this, I thought to myself. But Q taught me how to balance the throttle and the clutch so well that I was able to do a decent job in just a few tries (I think I only stalled once).

After driving the Civic for 10 years, I'd say I'm pretty good at driving the stick and I found that all those other people were right; driving a stick DOES give you more control over the car. Actually, it's more control over the acceleration of the car. But in any case, they were right.

Manual Transmission

My experiences with the manual transmission started at the ripe age of around 11 years-old. Gah had recently bought a used Honda Prelude that sat in our garage and it happened to have a manual transmission. We're not sure why she chose something like that since she didn't know how to drive it. But each to his own. Every now and then, we would have to play musical cars, having multiple cars in the family and only room enough for 2 in the garage, one parked behind the other.

One day, Goh was asked to move Gah's car so that Mom or Dad could get in the garage. Since Gah wasn't home and Goh was the next elder at home, the responsibility fell upon his shoulders. I got in to the passenger front seat just for kicks and to enjoy Gah's new ride. Little did I know, though, that Goh had no idea how to drive a manual transmission, either.

Starting the car was no problem, but Goh had to move the car ahead approximately 6 feet and that required that he put the car in gear. I alone wasn't strong enough to push the car that far while the car was in neutral with Goh at the wheel, pressing the clutch. Now, for anyone who has ridden in a manual transmission car that is bucking, you would know that it feels like someone is jamming on the brake, then flooring it, then jamming on the brake, then flooring it, then jamming on the brake, all in rapid succession. It's enough to give someone a severe case of whiplash ten times over. And there's absolutely no control of the car when that is happening, especially with the older cars unless you're experienced enough to press on the clutch. Which Goh wasn't.

So there we were, revving the engine in neutral until Goh was brave enough to put the car in gear and release the clutch. And off we went, bucking, lurching, and kicking, getting whiplash over and over. But that wasn't the worst of it. The true terror wasn't riding in a car with Goh at the wheel that was completely out of control; it was the fact that we were heading straight towards the back wall of the house. Forget the car, we were about to put a hole through Gung's wall! If we survived the crash, Mom would kill us, or at least make a decent effort. Actually, she would kill Goh, but I'd get killed, also, more so because I'd be a scapegoat. And where Mom didn't succeed, Gung surely would.

But through all the bucking and kicking, screaming and praying, the car finally died about 30cm (that's about a 1 foot for the metrically-challenged) from the wall. Needless to say, I had to push the car everytime Goh had to move it after that.