When asked about what makes me unique, I often struggle for answers. Really, the only things I can think of are my favorite actor in “Top Gun” is Val Kilmer, and I can drive a stick shift. The reason the latter fact is distinctive is because only around 20 percent of Americans still know how to drive a stick shift. Unfortunately, I am quite familiar with that number, as it is far too close to the average grade I received on my calculus tests.
(Which one of these is still recognizable in 2015?)
My journey to learning how to drive a stick was unique, as my teachers were not the typical neighbors, parents, or friends; they were used-car salesmen, the ones with slicked back hair who would fit in on "Jersey Shore." You see, normally people go to car dealerships with the intention of buying, not learning to drive, a car. However, I was not normal; I was a teenager in 2013 with a desire to drive something that was arguably groundbreaking when the Austro-Hungarian Empire was still around.
Generally, the thought of doing more work scares millennials away, but I embraced this challenge. Once my mother and I determined that learning to drive a stick shift was a "resume-builder," we ventured over to the car dealerships of the Greater Washington Metropolitan area: a land of cocaine, enterprise, and receding hairlines.
As previously mentioned, the dealerships I visited were not the typical, reputable dealerships that employ men named Steve who would happily sell you a Toyota Corolla for $999 and the promise of your first-born (which isn’t too difficult, right?). No, I visited used car dealerships-- the ones that don't always appear on google and have more health code violations than customers.
Obviously, I didn’t have a first-born to gamble away, so my mother and I traveled to the first used car dealership and were greeted by two enthusiastic salesmen who quickly agreed to let us drive their cars: “Sure, nothing wrong, perfect car” (they were suspiciously inviting, unlike their cologne, which was only suspicious).
Now, my mother and I had a few theories about why the salesmen were so eager to let us drive their cars. The first and clearest reason: “Well, they think we might buy it,” although this theory was about as likely as not stalling the car on my first try. The second reason: there were dead bodies in the trunk that they needed to get rid of, so if we stole the car, they wouldn’t mind. My mother, who is from New Jersey, thought this was a reasonable possibility, and as a result, we were more than happy to test drive their car. Once we agreed on a disposal site, they took a photocopy of my license (I am still scared about this) and handed me the keys.
To those of you that are still reading and haven't switched over to reading about Rihanna's hair, stick with me. The rest of my story is history. Well, not really, but learning to drive a manual transmission isn’t that difficult. There are many actions- launching a space shuttle, leaving a ListServ, or sitting through Bill O’Reilly’s program -- that require a good amount of effort, but all learning a stick shift requires is a bit of patience and the willingness to embarrass yourself for about half an hour. Again, if Bill O’Reilly can do that every night, you can too.
(two different types of knobs)
Driving a stick shift is like playing board games with your family; you're going to get some mulligans. For example, if your friend asks to borrow your car, tell them you'd gladly lend it but it's a stick-shift and watch as their face fills with disappointment (like they just watched Anchorman 2). Not only that, you will look very cool as you get stuck behind a Buick doing 15mph below the speed limit in a residential zone. Such is the power of the antiquated transmission.
That is why I implore you -- fellow Odyssey readers -- to drive a car with a manual transmission. The traditional benefits of this transmission decrease by the day, but I think the biggest benefit for me was that it gave me a great story to tell. And fret not, everyone -- you need not travel to a sketchy dealership to learn; you can just ask me.
