Okay, story time.
When I was 16 my dad bought me a car. It was cute. It was red. It was sporty… and it was a stick. I was a horrible driver to begin with, and that coupled with my ridiculous impatience made driving it a complete nightmare. I dreaded it! Honest to God, I cried when it would stall on me, and I pretty much swore off manual cars altogether when I killed the engine and full on STOPPED in the middle of one of the busiest intersections in town. WHILE TRAFFIC WAS COMING TOWARD ME. Needless to say, we swapped it out for an automatic. (Drama queen.)
I’ve always felt completely stupid about giving up on something so simple and that so many other people could do, so I added this to my 101 Things list. I haven’t driven one since that little red car, but today I can proudly cross it of that list.
Okayokayokay, so I drove Justin’s car around the block to my parents’ house to do a load of laundry. Aaaand, I may have stalled it no less than 10 times before making it out of our apartment complex’s parking lot. But I totally realized I hadn’t released the E-brake before I could do any major damage, so… BAM. I win.