Two Milestones

I took the plunge.
After weeks of meandering through back roads and venturing through stoplights only to drive around the corner to our subdivision, I decided to drive the standard all the way to church. That sounds more decisive than the reality. Actually, two of my supporters (my husband and a friend who were in the car) made the decision for me while I wavered about whether I should or should not.
Gearshift in hand, I nosed my way out of the neighborhood and turned left through the intersection lights, and we were off! I am happy to say that I made it through red lights and stop signs without the car cutting out. It's the first time I've driven without it happening once. Perhaps the little prayer I said before starting had something to do with it.
With cars all around me I managed to shift up and shift down, stop and start, slow down and accelerate, and - ! Reverse into a parking space!
Mind you, that's how I always park, but I find it much more difficult to do with the standard.
So those were my two milestones today - driving all that way and not cutting out.

Is that a light?

Driving a standard: lesson six (or seven?)
I haven't driven the Pontiac for two weeks. First it was because we'd just painted part of the house, and by Sunday I was too tired to subject myself to the grueling mental stress of worrying about whether or not I was harming the car. The second week was because our nephews were over, and there was no way I was going to practice driving with three boys yelling in the back, commenting over this or that.
But yesterday, finally, I got back in the driver's seat.
It's a rather odd thing with me, that often if I take a break from something, I jump a level or two when I get back to it. It happened with my pastel portraits, for instance. After not painting pastels for about a year, I went back to it and found that they'd taken on a whole new dimension. Perhaps taking a step back allows me a different perspective. Perhaps I subconsciously continue to work on things.
Whatever the case, on this driving lesson I managed to drive out of the garage, through the streets to our 'practice' area, practice, and then drive back home with the car only cutting once. Mind you, this time I was overly cautious with the clutch and rode it too much...maybe next time I'll manage to let go of it once the car has started moving.

Growing Pains

About a month and a half ago, we bought a new car. We'd had every intention of getting another automatic, which was the only thing I knew how to drive. But, because of this, that, and the other thing, we ended up walking out of a dealership with a red standard, complete with sunroof.
So began the 'stick' driving lessons.
My husband, who has been very patient and long-suffering throughout this process, is my teacher, and so far, we've had about five or six lessons.
By the second lesson, I was up to gear five, motoring along a lonely stretch of road happily devoid (for the most part) of cars, traffic lights, stop signs and pedestrians.
By last week's lesson, I was pretty happy. The engine had only cut out twice, I was shifting and downshifting with comfortable ease, and I was merrily feeling that driving a standard was much more fun than driving an automatic.
And then we went on today's lesson. Well, first I suggested that I try driving from our house to the road that we use. I felt pretty confident until I was actually in the car, on the driveway. Gone was all the bubblyness from last week. Suddenly I felt like we were back to lesson one. Or two, at the most.
The engine cut going out of the driveway. Then it cut at the first stop sign. Then I accidentally shifted into first instead of third as I was downshifting, which made the engine rev and completely derailed any little confidence I had remaining.
So we decided to go back to my safe little parking lot to try and get it back.
The parking lot was covered in snow. For three consecutive days flakes drifted down from the sky. On Saturday, the flakes congealed on the ground as packing snow. The densest, stickiest, heaviest kind of snow. The perfect snow for snowmen. The worst kind of snow for driving.
But we were fine as I curved and stopped. Started and curved. Until I arced into one part of the lot. "Go forward," my husband urged. Nothing. "Go backward." Nothing. Uh oh.
Yup. On top of everything else, I got us stuck in a parking lot, literally two minutes away from our house. It took at least half an hour of pulling, pushing, shoveling (with a window scraper) and lining the tire tracks with the rubber floor mats to get out of there.
I made sure that my husband drove home, and I'll probably laugh about this later - when I finally feel comfortable with clutches and gears.