D and I did something very interesting on Saturday. It gave me a huge dose of Déjà Vu. We went out to the high school parking lot and necked…no just kidding. D taught me how to drive a standard. Or I guess I should say re taught me. I remember learning on my older sisters Volkswagen Jetta. My sister and I lived with our aunt and uncle back then, and my aunt was teaching me.
All I can remember is her exasperation. It was not a lesson that lasted a long time. I think she gave up on me. I don’t remember ever really getting the hang of it. I have not driven a standard since. Oh, if there was an emergency, I could probably get someone to the ER, but they might have to treat you for whiplash, and it would take a long time as I would have to re start the car every time I was required to come to a complete stop.
Interestingly enough, D also seemed to get exasperated with me. The whole clutch, gas, break, shift thing is just too much. To take your foot off the gas when you put in the clutch? It’s just counter intuitive, taking your foot off the gas when the idea is to go faster. My one functioning brain cell can just not handle it. My automatic tendencies are just too ingrained.
I’m afraid I’m going to be one of those ladies who has to rely on the men in her life to get her around when there is a standard to be driven.
I am feeling a shifting in the time space continuum. (Too much Star Trek) First Algebra now driving; there are way too many things that my 16 year old son can do that I cannot.
Seriously folks, I am incapable of driving my 16 year old son’s truck. I feel old.
Perhaps D and I should have just driven to the high school parking lot and necked. I’m pretty sure I can still do that.