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.