SHARP FAMILY
ODDITIES
The Verging Years – Book 4, Vol. IV
The Verging Years – Book 4, Vol. IV
CHAPTER XVI
In the Which Brandon Learns to Drive Stickshift
In the Which Brandon Learns to Drive Stickshift
With my license suspended by a cold, unfeeling and thoroughly heartless transportation bureaucracy and with no vehicles to drive which were not manual, I was forced to introduce Brandon to the craft of driving stickshift in his father's Miata.
We began rather stupidly. There is no other way to describe the decision to make his first experience with stickshift one in which he was driving uphill and backwards. Ergo, getting out of our driveway.
At first we sat in the car as
I explained the rudiments of shifting. Clutch, gears, brakes and the
accelerator pedal. Having dispensed with this rigorous thirty second
introduction, Brandon started the car, shifted into reverse and
pressed on the accelerator, looking over his shoulder at the mountain
behind him. The car gave a mighty heave and stalled. I assured him
this was perfectly normal when first learning stick, stressing the
importance of using the clutch. He started the car again and we
repeated the process of lurching and stalling as he careened up the
hill and into the bushes a number of times, the car obediently going
exactly where he directed it, which was not up the driveway. At some
point he mistakenly turned the wheel in the right direction and we
missed the quivering azaleas and the nearly doomed mailbox and rolled
out into the street.
At that point another car was coming down the road behind us and I howled, “PUT IT IN FIRST!”
He pounded on the clutch and found first, jerking the car forward into an abrupt stall. The approaching car hesitated and Brandon quickly restarted the car and tried again. “I shouldn't have do this,” he muttered. “You should be driving.”
“I
can't drive. I'll go to jail,” I reminded him, with some degree of
petulance.
He pressed on the acclerator and the car jerked
forward. The engine immediately revved high and I said, “Now go to
second.”
He shifted and the car jumped again and stalled. The car behind us carefully drove past. Brandon, thoroughly embarrassed and frustrated by now, restarted the car as I helpfully shouted, “CLUTCHCLUTCHCLUTCHCLUTCH!!” like a deranged coach in the fourth quarter on the last down of the superbowl.
It stalled again. “I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO DO THIS!”
“You'll be fine. Oh, hey, the brake is on.”
**********************
I will spare you the following weeks of CLUTCHCLUTCHCLUTCHCLUTCH and STOP YELLING AT ME. There were also other phrases, such as SHIFTSHIFTSHIFTSHIFT and more CLUTCHCLUTCHCLUTCH. There were times when he got the knack and then for no reason seemed to forget everything he learned and stalled and ground his way through the gears.
However, he gradually got the hang of it and has been driving me around all week. Yesterday morning on the way to an appointment he did brilliantly, confidently shifting even in stop and go traffic. He knew when to shift, how to compensate for hills and actually seemed to enjoy himself. In fact, the car seemed to sense the fun because when we went over a bump in the road the convertible top flew up and folded itself back. It was a little disconcerting but I recalled that I may not have latched it properly. We drove on, the wind in our hair, me wearing his fedora and he with his John Lennon sunglasses, enjoying the day.
Our
second outing was later in the afternoon for soccer. Ethan had just
returned home from work as we were leaving. I opened the
postage-stamp sized trunk of the Miata and put my laptop in there as
we chatted. Brandon walked out of the garage with the keys in his
hand. Ethan asked, “Are you driving?”
“Yeah. Mom can't drive, remember?”
“When did you learn to drive stick?”
“I've been learning. The past few weeks,” Brandon said, and I felt a rush of pride. I knew Brandon must have felt good surprising his older brother. Ethan's car is stick so that's pretty much the only way he's driven.
“Oh, that's cool. Good for you, man. Just don't hit my car on your way out.”
“Oh, please.”
Brandon decided to put up the top for this trip and then we got in the car and Ethan strolled around the opened garage, talking on his cell phone.
As I settled in the passenger's seat, a shade of doubt entered my mind. Brandon had mastered a lot of things about driving stick, but getting out of the driveway remained an inconsistent enterprise.
Brandon
started the car and I couldn't help advising, “Just go out
slow.”
“I will, don't worry.”
He started the car and put it in reverse. I held my breath as he moved neatly past Ethan's car and turned to go up the driveway. He gave it a little more gas and the car shot back. Like a moth to a flame, we veered toward the azaleas, pulled by some cosmic force we were powerless to resist. Brandon put on the brakes and let the car roll forward so he could adjust his course. He put it back into reverse and started up the hill again for another try. The car once again shot towards the bushes. This time Brandon just gunned the engine and we plowed through the bushes and towards the mailbox. We veered around the mailbox, missing it by inches and swung out wildly into the road.
Ethan,
who had been watching the performance from the garage, made a languid
“nailed it” gesture. We drove off, laughing like maniacs.
And
thus, Brandon has learned to drive stick.
Addendum
You
will see that I found some humor in the situation, however when I
attempted to entertain Mr. Sharp with this tale he became noticeably
agitated and announced he would be looking for another vehicle for
Brandon to drive. And possibly myself.
