Douglas Adams provided the initial nudge to the chain of events which
led to my learning to drive a manual-transmission auto, but things
got funnier as that chain of events unfolded. Well, it unfolded thus:
At the time, I was still living with my parents, in Bowie (Maryland).
Douglas Adams was scheduled to speak at the University of Maryland,
and (of course) several of my friends decided we simply _had_ to
attend. My friend Ni-Ni suggested that, since Bowie was on the way
to College Park from Annapolis where she lived, she and I could pick
me up in her Chevvy Shove-It (Chevette). (I offered to let her leave
her car at my house and have me drive the rest of the way, but she
insisted on driving.)
Along the way, we spoke of many things, of ships, and shoes, and
sealing wax, and cars -- including some of the quirks of hers, and
the fact that although I knew the theory of driving a manual
transmission, I'd never done so -- but mostly about whether Spam
would be there.
"Do you think Spam will be there?"
"Oh, most likely. I can't imagine he'd miss it."
"I hope he'll be there. Do you really think he'll be there?"
Ni-Ni, you see, had a serious crush on Spam at the time.
So we did arrive at the university, and I learned a new route to
get there, as Ni-Ni went a different way than the ones I knew,
and sure enough, Spam was there. So were a great many other
people I was happy to see, although Dominique (whom I had a
crush on) was suffering a nasty cold/flu-type illness and she was
therefore a bit out of it. Ni-Ni immediately switched from
wondering whether Spam would be present, to wishing she could
ride with _him_ back to Bowie.
At the end of a marvelous talk by Mr. Adams, most of us were
milling around, chatting, and I was spending as much time as I
could near Dominique. Ni-Ni came over to us, holding her keys.
"Glenn, I've figured it out," said Ni-Ni.
"Okay," I replied, puzzled.
"Here. You're going to drive my car back to your parents' house,
and I'm going to ride with Spam and meet you there. I'm low on
gas, so if you're willing to stop along the way and put gas in
it, here's $5 for that."
Even more puzzled, since I had never driving a stick-shift before,
I said, "Uh, are you _sure_?"
"Yes, Glenn, I've thought this through. I'm sure," she responded,
speaking slowly and carefully. "You're going to drive my car back
to Bowie and I'll ride with Spam."
Still rather skeptical, I said, "Okay, if you're sure," and took
her keys. I then offered Dominique a ride back to Mouse House(*),
where she lived, as she had no other ride and was really too ill
to make the walk.
Unsurprisingly, it took me a great many tries to get Ni-Ni's
car out of the parking lot, stalling it many times as I learned
how to work the clutch. Dominique was very helpful, giving me
advice and instruction that, due to her fever that night, she
has absolutely no memory of giving. She remembers that I drove
her home, but remembers nothing of the trip. So for the first
five or ten minutes of my first try at driving stick, I did have
a friendly (though barely conscious) advisor in the passenger seat,
but we quickly reached Mouse House, where I dropped her off and
then struggled mightily to execute a three-point turn. Fortunately
the battery was up to the task of starting the car a dozen or so
times while I learned how to reverse the car without stalling it.
So there I was, alone in Ni-Ni's car, finding myself navigating
twisty back roads (since dropping off Dominique at Mouse House
meant I wasn't taking the wide, straight US-50). Soon I found
myself up-shifting on a curve, feeling good about myself, feeling
like a smooth operator, and trying to pat myself on the back --
which was difficult as I had one hand on the wheel and the other
on the gearshift. I even made it out of the gas station without
stalling, having finally gotten the hang of working the clutch
in first gear. It was with a smug smile on my face that I pulled
up in front of my parents' house and parked, remembering the
quirks Ni-Ni had mentioned which pertained to parking that particular
car on a hill.
...
But wait: let us peer in on what was going on in Spam's car
(nicknamed "the bearsquack", for reasons which will make sense
if you know which two Volkswagons used a pancake-4 engine).
Spam: "Uh, Ni-Ni? I just thought of something."
Ni-Ni: "What, Spam?"
Spam: "I don't think Glenn drives stick."
Ni-Ni: "WHAT?!"
Spam: "Come to think of it, I know Glenn doesn't drive stick."
Ni-Ni: "Spam, tell me you're joking."
Spam: [deadpan] "Okay, I'm joking."
Ni-Ni: "Really?"
Spam: "No."
Ni-Ni: "MY CAAAAARRRRRR!!!!!!!"
...
So I parked her car and strolled down the hill to where Spam's
bearsquack was parked, twirling Ni-Ni's keys. Spam rolled down
his window wearing his trademark goofy grin. "Hi, Glenn."
"Hi."
Ni-Ni leaned across Spam to say, with a terribly worried look,
"Is my car okay?"
"Yeah, sure. I even remembered what you said about parking it.
Didn't grind the gears even once! Stalled it a few times, but
never ground the gears. I, ah, accidentally changed one of your
radio buttons though."
"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME YOU DON'T DRIVE STICK?"
"But I _did_ tell you -- it came up in conversation on the way
to campus! I thought you knew. That's why I asked whether
you were sure, when you handed me your keys."
"And you expected me to REMEMBER that?"
The whole time, Spam was grinning, looking at me so that Ni-Ni
wouldn't see the grin.
Well since then, driving a standard transmission has been no
problem at all for me (and when not stuck in rush-hour traffic,
I prefer standard rather than automatic). Though the transmission
in the Shove-It remains my least-favourite, since discovering that
every other type of car I've driven since has more range in first
gear (and yes, I've driven Shove-Its again since then). And Ni-Ni
wasn't mad at me for changing one of her radio buttons.
I never did get around to writing to Douglas Adams to thank him.
I meant to, but I kept putting it off.
And no, I didn't make up those names for this story -- those
are actually the nicknames my friends go by.
-- Glenn
(*) Mouse House -- so named because when Dominique and Frodo and Dunstan
and the others moved in, a) they saw a mouse and b) the phone number
spelled spy-m0use.
-
This message is from the Pentax-Discuss Mail List. To unsubscribe,
go to http://www.pdml.net and follow the directions. Don't forget to
visit the Pentax Users' Gallery at http://pug.komkon.org .
