I especially hate to drive a manual transmission. And, alas, I especially hate driving my household’s sole car, a manual with particularly fussy transmission.
Sorry, that’s a lot of hate for a Thursday morning, but really– driving that car is one of my least favorite everyday things. I would mow 20 lawns and do 50 loads of laundry and scrub 50 toilets if it meant I got out of driving.
On Saturday, my husband wanted to run to a charity run/walk we were doing in town together, so I agreed to drive the car there. As soon as I stalled coming out of our alley and had a four-car back-up behind me, I really regretted my decision.
Through the half-hour drive (which included getting lost and stalling once more at a stop light just off I-5), I fought a sense of panic. But I WON; despite the stalling, I got to the race on time, and I didn’t hurt anyone (or anything) in the process.
When the car stalled and people behind me honked, I turned on my flashers, tamped down the shame, took a deep breath, and remembered something my mom used to say to me when she first taught me to drive 20 years ago:
“They’re honking? That’s their problem. Your only problem is driving this car and driving it safely. You do what you have to do to make that happen, and let them pass you.”
I put on the parking brake, waved the honkers around me, took another deep breath, turned the ignition, and accomplished my brave thing of the day.
Do you have any driving stories to share?