So Jonney and I were sitting in his car, in the middle of a K-Mart parking lot, where he was instructing to me how to drive a manual transmission. "Push the clutch all the way down," He said. I pushed the clutch all the way down. "Now lightly press on the gas," He said. I took it up to about a four on the RPM gauge, which, if I heard correctly, goes in thousands. "No, lighter," He said. Withdraw! "A little bit more," He said. Press! And so it went for what seemed like forever until finally we settled on a peaceful hum. Then he put it in neutral and away we went, and I started screeching, "OH! OH! OH! OH!"
You see, for me, driving is an adventure that involves a lot of shifting, bending, and shrieking. The shifting because everyone I know drives manual. The bending because I'm too short to drive most cars. And the shrieking, because I don't like it when I'm not just a natural at something.
Then we drove to a church parking lot, and I actually took control. I later told Jonney that it seemed like we were going really fast. He chuckled. We were going about twelve miles an hour.
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