Gripping the steering wheel as my grandpa turned down the music as a weak attempt to calm my nerves: it didn't work. With his calm white version of Morgan Freeman voice he turned to me with his sympathetic eyes and said, “Ease off the clutch and onto the gas…” With a sigh, moan, and an eyeroll I attempted again, and yet, I stalled out on the corner of State and Acadia. Infuriated, I sprung from the driver's seat and insisted my grandfather Drive the orange roller skate he called a car.
Most people don't bother venturing into the world of the clutch and stick, but in the Knebel family it's a tradition, and as you can tell by my frustration I wasn't interested either. It's 2014 and my parents still force me to drive a stick shift before anything else. I screeched, skidded, and drifted through country blocks months before I drove my first automatic. Although some consider this a
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My grandfather looked at me and simply said, “Relax” , once again it was one of his faulty attempts to call me down. Looking back at the skid marks I had left, I return to the driver's seat . With the smell of burnt rubber searing my nose hairs as my grandpa climbed back into the passenger seat. I turned up the music and tried again, and again, and again, off the clutch and onto the gas, finally shifting to 2nd gear drifting down State Road.
Two years later and I still skid down the road sometimes. I still make the simple mistakes like forgetting to shift at the right time, or remembering to pull the emergency brake up when I put my car into park; although I made those mistakes I don't let the fear stalling out keep me from hitting the road, I didn’t accept mediocrity, I kept driving, I kept shifting until I got to 5th gear. Now when I pass those same skid marks I had left on the corner of Acadia and State years ago I’m reminded to keep driving: never give
A vast majority of our population find operating a manual transmission, or stick shift, to be extremely difficult. However, in actuality all it takes is some serious practice and devotion to make driving a stick shift like second nature. For successful driving, the same steps must be followed each time the car is driven.
At the beginning, I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t turn good, I couldn’t park right, I did not even know the features of the car. Even though it was super frustrating, I told myself I would learn no matter how tough it would be. Even if I crashed I was so determined to learn. So, I took my dad’s car one day without asking him and I was determined to learn that I basically stole my dad’s car for almost the whole day. Yes, he was very angry at me for doing that but with that experience I gained lots of knowledge on driving. Although, I did get punished, to me it was worth it because if you really want something in life you will go through anything, even an ass whooping from my
After obtaining my driver's license at the age of eighteen, I quickly began to believe that I was the reincarnate of Dale Earnhardt. No matter where I was driving to or for what reason, speeding was always a part of the equation. Young and uninformed of the risks associated with my reckless driving habits, I had convinced myself that I was not only invincible, but above the law as well. After receiving a speeding ticket and other traffic citations as the result of an accident, I was forced to re-evaluate my belief that I had no obligation to follow the law and in turn the notion of my invincibility. After much reflection and and soul searching, I came to the conclusion that life, like driving, is a gift that is very fragile and should not be regarded as irresponsibly as I had been treating it by driving so recklessly.
It was a summer day. One where the sun was out, but it doesn’t feel like it. You could hear the soft breeze flowing through the air. My dad had gotten tickets to a motocross race. So we walk through the slushy, wet grass over to a white toll booth and hand them our tickets and we get through the gate. My dad and I walk a fair while before there was a decent seat. We found one on the side of the hill where some of the bikes would come through. Then we hear the roar of the engines. Woosh! They are off to the races. One flies past us. Then the whole group. They come back around about a minute later and they stop.
Driving. While I haven’t had the greatest experiences with driving related problems; I’ve run into some pretty funny ones. When I was about four years old my family was over at my grandpa’s putting in a well for him. I of course was sitting in the unattended van on the top of the hill in the back seat. While many people would think that it was completely safe and there’s nothing to worry about they are wrong. You see I was a clever little toddler and could at that time unbuckle herself and climb over the center console right into the front seat. Also being the genius child that I was I managed to switch the car from park to neutral and begin to roll down the hill. Now I don 't remember my mom and the other adults running towards the van to
As I walked out of the courthouse and down the ramp, I looked at my mom in disappointment and embarrassment. Never wanting to return to that dreadful place, I slowly drug my feet back to the car. I wanted to curl up in a little ball and I didn't want anyone else to know what I had done. Gaining my composure, I finally got into the car. I didn't even want to hear what my mom had to say. My face was beat red and I was trying to hide my face in the palms of my hands because I knew what was about to come; she was going to start asking me questions, all of the questions I had been asking myself. Sure enough, after a short period of being in the car, the questions began.
Driving home yesterday, I was reflecting on the upcoming Father’s Day weekend. I was thanking the Lord for my wife, Rebecca and daughters, Madison and Caitlin. I am so blessed to have them in my life and and to be a husband and father. Everyday, I look forward to coming home to them - particularly after a difficult day at work. I drive home with anticipation to see them as I walk through the door - or, better yet when they greet me as I pull up to the house - and spending the evening with them. Call me weird, or strange, but I actually enjoy spending time with my wife and girls. Sure, there are times when I need a quiet moment to myself, but for the most part, I really want them around. This past weekend we took a vacation to the Phoenix (technically
I carried the white-enameled wash bowl and a brown paper grocery bag to Grandma’s rusty, red Plymouth Valiant. I sat in the coveted front seat for the very first time; being the youngest, I never had the opportunity to sit in the front. I was feeling pretty special as Grandma drove slowly down Mackyferry Road. Driving slow was a...
I charged away in my lightweight, manual, gray Chevy Spectrum that I liked to call “Junior.” While speeding along to Tom Petty’s, “You Wreck Me Baby,” I had not noticed the shower of mud flying from my cardboard-looking hub capped wheels. The thought crossed my mind to turn back, but the tires had already begun to spin hopelessly like a hamster’s wheel. I realized that turning back towards a possible cop was not an option. This road was not about to let me maneuver a three-point-turn-about either.
In the green Volkswagen, Grandpa assumed he could pass up Bill and me, therefore no one could find where he hid his apple cider. In red SUV, Bill the innocent bystander tried to deliver a gift for me. Martin, in his new black Mustang with purple stripes, who came home from the Arm Forces to surprise me on my 70th birthday. However, he couldn’t stop in time and he hit the SUV. If it hadn’t been for that unpredictable hare and your grandfather rushing; it wouldn’t have
As I yell, "Slow down! Slow down!" I realized that my good friend Ben is about to see his life flash before his eyes. He is in fourth gear on his four-wheeler, running approximately forty-five miles per hour as he declines down a hill toward a massive mud hole at the bottom. Knowing what is about to happen, I wave my arms in a downward motion in an attempt for him to slow down. Because of his speed he had no choice but to just go for it. He hit the bottom of the hill and about three feet from the bottom is where the mud hole began. He hit the mud and traveled about four feet before flipping the ATV and flying over the handle bars, with no grace whatsoever, looking like a turtle flying through the air because of the backpack he was wearing and the mud filled helmet. Immediately I rushed to his aid, but once I heard his contagious laugh I knew all was well. I started my way back to my ATV so I could pull his out. This was a great start to a fun-filled weekend. Although we dreaded every day that had to pass before we left, we were ecstatic on our departure day.
Learning to master driving a manual transmission car has taught me that safe driving is the best driving. When driving stick shift you are constantly moving, looking, listening, and thinking. Learning to balance all this helps you realize how dangerous it is driving stick shift. At any given moment you can be in danger and now you have to add the danger to your already overwhelmed mind. There are many components in learning to drive stick shift but the experience as a whole is worth
“The one thing that unites all human beings, regardless of age, gender, religion, economic status, or ethnic background, is that, deep down inside, we all believe that we are above-average drivers” -Dave Barry, comedian. The number of accidents over the last ten years have drastically increased, drivers are paying less attention to the road itself. Many individuals behind the wheel of a car believe that their driving does not affect the road conditions, however it always will. The driving habits of today are catastrophic due to the reasoning that the driving will affect other lives through reckless or distracted driving, and disobeying traffic laws.
After I was done putting on the shiny new helmet and goggles that my Dad had bought me, he would pick me up and place me right in front of him, between him and the gas tank, so I could hold on to the crossbar on the handlebars. Then as he let the aluminum clutch lever out easy and gradually twisted the throttle, we would speed off around the gate and down the dirt road behind the house.
I was too scared. I never wanted to drive again. Just the thought of being behind the wheel made me nauseous. But as time went on, I began to realize that I had to get back out there. If I kept putting it off, I would have never driven again and my family felt the same way. So I started back slowly. I would drive to the store or to my friend’s house and then gradually, I began to start driving normally again. That experience has definitely changed my life forever. It has made me a safer driver who always looks twice and pays attention. I never want to experience anything like that again and I will do everything in my power to make sure I do not. I also do not take my days for granted anymore because, I never know when one will be my last. That afternoon still haunts me to this day. It has now been almost two years since then and I still have yet to drive under that same underpass. It still terrifies me to think about it. But, no matter how awful that day was, I know it had to happen. It changed me, not only as a driver, but also as a