I was once involved with a charitable organization that was doing a spruce-up project on a local grade school. Most of the volunteers were high school kids. At one point it was determined that someone had to drive the commercial truck (much larger than your standard pickup truck) back to the warehouse for more supplies. Several of the boys clamored to be the one to drive, but all were chagrined to see the floor shift. My cred with them increased substantially when I was the only adult around who could drive it, more so because I'm a woman.
I learned to drive stick in an old yellow school bus, back behind the scenes in Disney world (we drive employees to and from parking to the Magic Kingdom underground). A same-age co-worker was appalled I didn’t know how. So we practiced from midnight to 2 am. after we traded the automatic city bus-type vehicle for the school bus. He was a great teacher! And it was hysterical when we had to pick up the random night worker who had to feel me jerk them around in first gear.
Glad to see that another lady showed the guys how it’s done. My wife once worked in an entry level position with a nonprofit organization, and was responsible for much of the grounds maintenance (a few hundred acres). The organization hired on many teens during the summer, and of course there were driving chores as various vehicles (practically all older and donated) were used to transport mowers, trimmers, etc. here and there. My wife taught many of these teens to drive a manual transmission. Her technique was to drive out to the middle of an open field, place the trainee in the driver’s seat, provide a general explanation of the transmission and clutch mechanism, note that she’d seen it all and they couldn’t scare her and there was nothing they could hit out there in the middle of the field, and let them have at it. It worked.
My family and my sister-in-law’s family took a trip to Spain in 2002. With four adults and 4 kids, ages 11-18, we decided it made the most sense to rent a van as more economical than taking trains everywhere. So we got a 9-passenger Mercedes van. When it was brought to us, it was manual transmission, and of the four adults I was the only one who knew stick. (It was a weird arrangement, the lever was like a 4-on-the-floor, but it stuck out of the dash.) So, I was the only driver for the entire trip. Another quirk was that it did not have a hand brake. Its brake was like 1980s automatics, on the floor to the left of the clutch, engaged and disengaged by stepping on it. What was Mercedes thinking about?! I learned stick in San Francisco, on a hill you ease out the clutch, slowly give it gas, while slowly releasing the hand brake. No problem until we got to Toledo, which not only has steep hills, it has very narrow streets (we had to fold in the mirrors to pass through some of them!). I do not have three feet, and the parking brake did not “ease out”; it was either engaged or disengaged. So, I did my best to use my right foot on both the clutch and the regular brake pedal, and my left foot to release the brake, and as quickly as possible swap my parking brake foot to the clutch while moving my right foot to the gas. Let’s just say that there are probably still Spaniards cursing being stuck behind a huge van that kept stalling out on the hills of Toledo. (Thankfully, none of them was tight on my bumper, because I would have rolled into them also.)
I prefer driving a stick shift. You have more control over the car, and can feel at one with the road (if you drive a stick manual, you know what I mean). A crisply-executed gear change as you upshift is a thing of delight. Pure fun.
Manual transmissions are going extinct as hybrids and EVs supplant old style internal combustion engines. I've owned manual transmission vehicles for 50 years. Sometime in the next year I will say goodbye to the last manual transmission vehicle I will ever own.
All our cars were sticks until we couldn’t get them any more in the cars we wanted. My wife had a Honda Civic Hybrid with a stick. When she finally had to give up on it for various mechanical issues, she had put 435,000 miles it and it still had the original clutch. We made sure all the kids learned to drive a stick. When her daughter went to Cornell, one of her biology courses involved working on a sheep farm. She was the only one in her group who could drive the tractor because it had a manual transmission.
"The secret of success in life is to eat what you like and let the food fight it out inside." - Mark Twain
I admit I subscribe to the "ignorance is bliss ( at the time...)" school of gastronomy. I would say I am an "adventurous" eater so long as I am not informed in advance of exactly what any culinary adventure is to be, unless it is described in a language with which I am not conversant. So, over the years and cultures, pretty much most of the anatomy of domesticated ruminants has unwittingly found its way into my digestive tract with varying results, including post-partaken psychological trauma on becoming witting. But if one uh...so-called edible...does stare back mockingly through the years, it would have to be a sheep eye consumed in the Middle East, with a weak smile and suddenly moist forehead, so as not to offend.
Some years ago when we were in Huntsville for the annual Hamfest, which usually coincides with the annual Huntsville Restaurant Week during which you can "enjoy exclusive menus and take advantage of special offers from top restauranteurs [sic]." As we had done in the past, we joined a Huntsville couple for a meal. This year they proposed a Mexican restaurant that, though not prepossessing, reportedly had very authentic cuisine. It was a hole-in-the-wall storefront in a strip shopping center, but we took one of the cafe-style booths and looked over the menu. My friend's husband decided to order the Sopa de Mariscos, which promised to include shrimp, crab, oysters, mussels--whatever. When it arrived, it was topped with an upright shrimp, head on, staring right at us and seeming to wave its antennae. My husband and I looked at each other and said, in unison, "Fa-ra-ra-ra-ra," and burst out laughing. Our dinner companions looked at us as if we had two heads. Turned out they'd never seen "A Christmas Story."
My grandmother was a terrible cook but loved to cook. Every time she came to visit us, she'd get some recipes from mother who was an excellent cook. Finally, when we were visiting my grandparents, my uncle took my mother aside and begged her to please stop giving my grandmother recipes. Apparently, they inspired to cook even more and the results bore no resemblance to what my mother had produce at home.
After I had shut the light off last night I remembered that I wanted to remind myself to make some changes to my retirement beneficiaries. So in the dark and sans my glasses I picked up my phone and typed the word “beneficiaries” in the subject line of an email to myself.
… or so I thought I had. This morning I see that my phone’s utterly unpredictable auto correct had mangled whatever typing mistakes I had made into a new adjective: benefucauoed. As the coiner of this neologism (with the help of an AI-driven cockroach, possibly drunk on fumes from an open bottle of rubber cement — vide Don Marquis), I offer this definition: the state of everything being so thoroughly and completely fucked up that it turns out well!
I still drive a stick. Friends came to visit and I was ferrying them around the city. One commented sadly, “I miss a manual.” I didn’t quite hear him and asked, “Who’s Emmanuel?”
You went to Scranton for steak? Big mistake - not as bad as having Chinese there but close. You should have gone to Oliphant or Throop (pronounced Troop) for a gourmet quality 5-course meal for $15.00. Or to Old Forge for the best pizza in the country. Next time call me.
Assume you buy those dry/dayboat scallops from a local fishmonger for your sashimi and not the usual water-logged specimens from a supermarket. Unless, that is, your supermarket has an enlightened seafood section. Also suggest a capesante crudo or Italian raw scallops, simply dressed with olive oil, sea salt or citrus. Delish!
A few friends tried to teach me to drive a stick, but I was always too afraid of "hurting" their cars to be successful. I've had a recurring dream where I can drive a stick though!
Certainly manual transmissions have fallen out of favor because of technological advances. Advances which allow you to text, talk, Zoom, play "Hidden Gem" and put on makeup while engaging at high speed with others of your species on a motorway.
I was once involved with a charitable organization that was doing a spruce-up project on a local grade school. Most of the volunteers were high school kids. At one point it was determined that someone had to drive the commercial truck (much larger than your standard pickup truck) back to the warehouse for more supplies. Several of the boys clamored to be the one to drive, but all were chagrined to see the floor shift. My cred with them increased substantially when I was the only adult around who could drive it, more so because I'm a woman.
I learned to drive stick in an old yellow school bus, back behind the scenes in Disney world (we drive employees to and from parking to the Magic Kingdom underground). A same-age co-worker was appalled I didn’t know how. So we practiced from midnight to 2 am. after we traded the automatic city bus-type vehicle for the school bus. He was a great teacher! And it was hysterical when we had to pick up the random night worker who had to feel me jerk them around in first gear.
Jack M.
Glad to see that another lady showed the guys how it’s done. My wife once worked in an entry level position with a nonprofit organization, and was responsible for much of the grounds maintenance (a few hundred acres). The organization hired on many teens during the summer, and of course there were driving chores as various vehicles (practically all older and donated) were used to transport mowers, trimmers, etc. here and there. My wife taught many of these teens to drive a manual transmission. Her technique was to drive out to the middle of an open field, place the trainee in the driver’s seat, provide a general explanation of the transmission and clutch mechanism, note that she’d seen it all and they couldn’t scare her and there was nothing they could hit out there in the middle of the field, and let them have at it. It worked.
My family and my sister-in-law’s family took a trip to Spain in 2002. With four adults and 4 kids, ages 11-18, we decided it made the most sense to rent a van as more economical than taking trains everywhere. So we got a 9-passenger Mercedes van. When it was brought to us, it was manual transmission, and of the four adults I was the only one who knew stick. (It was a weird arrangement, the lever was like a 4-on-the-floor, but it stuck out of the dash.) So, I was the only driver for the entire trip. Another quirk was that it did not have a hand brake. Its brake was like 1980s automatics, on the floor to the left of the clutch, engaged and disengaged by stepping on it. What was Mercedes thinking about?! I learned stick in San Francisco, on a hill you ease out the clutch, slowly give it gas, while slowly releasing the hand brake. No problem until we got to Toledo, which not only has steep hills, it has very narrow streets (we had to fold in the mirrors to pass through some of them!). I do not have three feet, and the parking brake did not “ease out”; it was either engaged or disengaged. So, I did my best to use my right foot on both the clutch and the regular brake pedal, and my left foot to release the brake, and as quickly as possible swap my parking brake foot to the clutch while moving my right foot to the gas. Let’s just say that there are probably still Spaniards cursing being stuck behind a huge van that kept stalling out on the hills of Toledo. (Thankfully, none of them was tight on my bumper, because I would have rolled into them also.)
Did they really use “vast” that much!
Yes. It's verbatim.
Oh, my lord.
I prefer driving a stick shift. You have more control over the car, and can feel at one with the road (if you drive a stick manual, you know what I mean). A crisply-executed gear change as you upshift is a thing of delight. Pure fun.
Manual transmissions are going extinct as hybrids and EVs supplant old style internal combustion engines. I've owned manual transmission vehicles for 50 years. Sometime in the next year I will say goodbye to the last manual transmission vehicle I will ever own.
All our cars were sticks until we couldn’t get them any more in the cars we wanted. My wife had a Honda Civic Hybrid with a stick. When she finally had to give up on it for various mechanical issues, she had put 435,000 miles it and it still had the original clutch. We made sure all the kids learned to drive a stick. When her daughter went to Cornell, one of her biology courses involved working on a sheep farm. She was the only one in her group who could drive the tractor because it had a manual transmission.
"The secret of success in life is to eat what you like and let the food fight it out inside." - Mark Twain
I admit I subscribe to the "ignorance is bliss ( at the time...)" school of gastronomy. I would say I am an "adventurous" eater so long as I am not informed in advance of exactly what any culinary adventure is to be, unless it is described in a language with which I am not conversant. So, over the years and cultures, pretty much most of the anatomy of domesticated ruminants has unwittingly found its way into my digestive tract with varying results, including post-partaken psychological trauma on becoming witting. But if one uh...so-called edible...does stare back mockingly through the years, it would have to be a sheep eye consumed in the Middle East, with a weak smile and suddenly moist forehead, so as not to offend.
Some years ago when we were in Huntsville for the annual Hamfest, which usually coincides with the annual Huntsville Restaurant Week during which you can "enjoy exclusive menus and take advantage of special offers from top restauranteurs [sic]." As we had done in the past, we joined a Huntsville couple for a meal. This year they proposed a Mexican restaurant that, though not prepossessing, reportedly had very authentic cuisine. It was a hole-in-the-wall storefront in a strip shopping center, but we took one of the cafe-style booths and looked over the menu. My friend's husband decided to order the Sopa de Mariscos, which promised to include shrimp, crab, oysters, mussels--whatever. When it arrived, it was topped with an upright shrimp, head on, staring right at us and seeming to wave its antennae. My husband and I looked at each other and said, in unison, "Fa-ra-ra-ra-ra," and burst out laughing. Our dinner companions looked at us as if we had two heads. Turned out they'd never seen "A Christmas Story."
My grandmother was a terrible cook but loved to cook. Every time she came to visit us, she'd get some recipes from mother who was an excellent cook. Finally, when we were visiting my grandparents, my uncle took my mother aside and begged her to please stop giving my grandmother recipes. Apparently, they inspired to cook even more and the results bore no resemblance to what my mother had produce at home.
Neologism:
After I had shut the light off last night I remembered that I wanted to remind myself to make some changes to my retirement beneficiaries. So in the dark and sans my glasses I picked up my phone and typed the word “beneficiaries” in the subject line of an email to myself.
… or so I thought I had. This morning I see that my phone’s utterly unpredictable auto correct had mangled whatever typing mistakes I had made into a new adjective: benefucauoed. As the coiner of this neologism (with the help of an AI-driven cockroach, possibly drunk on fumes from an open bottle of rubber cement — vide Don Marquis), I offer this definition: the state of everything being so thoroughly and completely fucked up that it turns out well!
I still drive a stick. Friends came to visit and I was ferrying them around the city. One commented sadly, “I miss a manual.” I didn’t quite hear him and asked, “Who’s Emmanuel?”
The Big Fence gave Republicans Pence;
Now with fire in their pants they’ve chosen a Vance.
“
You went to Scranton for steak? Big mistake - not as bad as having Chinese there but close. You should have gone to Oliphant or Throop (pronounced Troop) for a gourmet quality 5-course meal for $15.00. Or to Old Forge for the best pizza in the country. Next time call me.
Assume you buy those dry/dayboat scallops from a local fishmonger for your sashimi and not the usual water-logged specimens from a supermarket. Unless, that is, your supermarket has an enlightened seafood section. Also suggest a capesante crudo or Italian raw scallops, simply dressed with olive oil, sea salt or citrus. Delish!
A few friends tried to teach me to drive a stick, but I was always too afraid of "hurting" their cars to be successful. I've had a recurring dream where I can drive a stick though!
Certainly manual transmissions have fallen out of favor because of technological advances. Advances which allow you to text, talk, Zoom, play "Hidden Gem" and put on makeup while engaging at high speed with others of your species on a motorway.