Control of Journey, if not Destination?

Not long ago, I taught myself to drive. Yes, I've been driving automatics for a couple of decades. THIS was a stick shift.

I know, I know--I should have learned this years ago, when I was young. But, well, I didn't. And I know I'm not alone. My family didn't have a stick shift at that time, and my high school class didn't cover it. I figured it was a non-issue. If I had made it past my dad and first husband without having to learn to drive a stick shift, why would I ever have to? I'm old enough to make my own decisions, buy my own cars, etc. And I would never BUY a stick shift. Case closed.

That's what I thought, until I was expecting my last baby. He wasn't going to fit in my husband's car along with the children we already had. My husband is the one who takes the kids to school. So, the obvious solution was to buy a new car--an automatic that I could drive to work. Hubby could take the van.

The only problem with making plans is. . .they don't work out. One day, while in the shower--where I do my best thinking, it dawned on me that we were not going to be able to buy a car that year. Not even a used one. The next thought was the killer. I was going to have to let my husband drive the van, so I was going to have to learn to drive his stick shift. Ouch.

Men, don't read this paragraph. Women: name one of the worst things you've ever been through. I have no doubt every one of you came up with having your dad/husband/big brother/grandpa/driver's ed teacher (pick one) sit next to you telling you how to drive. Well, I was for sure too old for that. I might have to learn to drive a stick, but I wasn't going to be bossed. Getting this past my husband wasn't too hard. Someone had to tend the kids while I practiced.

"We'll put them in the back seat while I teach you," he protested.

"Only three will fit," I reminded him.

I did ask him to keep his cell phone on. Which came in handy the time I called and slobbered into the phone for fifteen minutes that I did NOT want to do this. Just in case he'd missed that. Fortunately, my husband had more faith in my ability to learn this than I did. And more patience.

For the first step, I reviewed in my mind what I already knew about the clutch and gears and asked a few questions. Then, I pretended to be shifting gears as I drove my van. Every time I stopped. What a pain. "Why would anyone go back to using a wringer washing machine?" I asked my husband. "Our technology is beyond this."

"You have more control with a stick shift," he said, wisely. I soon found, to my great irritation, that everyone said that. Control of what? Not my emotions. I'd never lacked control of a car I was driving. In the absence of black ice, that is.

Then, I sat in his car in the driveway and got familiar with the pedals, switches, and gears. That was enough for the first session--I had to do Lamaze breathing to keep from panicking even though I didn't turn the car on. I'd tried, but it didn't work. I'd been out there about ten minutes when I amused my husband by calling on the cell phone to ask him, "How do you turn the car on?" He told me the clutch had to be all the way down. The clutch. Of course. The mysterious clutch.

The next time, I backed out of the driveway and made it all the way to the middle of the street before I had to be rescued. A few days later, I was driving through the church parking lot and the one across the street. I became an expert on first to second. I wasn't going fast enough to deal with third yet.

A sympathetic friend drove me to work for three or four weeks. She had no intention of ever learning to drive a stick shift, either, and could understand. Finally, though, I had to bite the bullet. It occurred to me that stopping and starting for 16 lights on the way to work wasn't that much more than a good practice. It's only 15 minutes of hell, I told myself. That became a good chant to get me through it. Sports experts tell you to pick a mantra.

I killed the engine only five times on that first run to work, and ground the gears once. Pretty good, I thought. I needed a shower and it took my hands a half hour to stop trembling, but I'd done it.

The first month, I had a lot of tricky moments. My main goal was to hit the lights green, so, to time that right, I was often either doing 90 or 5 mph. I stalled on the big hill on the way home from work a few times. People would pass me; some would honk. I knew that they were looking in the window at me, wondering why a woman my age couldn't drive her car. I was old enough to be the mother of some of them. I know, I know, I thought, but I'm just learning. Give me a break.

I also learned an important life lesson. You never know what's going to happen until you get there. You could be heading for a red light sure as anything, and it could change in the nick of time. So there is no point in panicking about what might happen. It also might not.

I still prefer to drive an automatic, but I did what I had to do. I did it! And learning a new life skill in your forties is something to be proud of. It gives you more control.