Online chat with my dad, about me possibly buying a new car:
Jamie: i'd get the full incentive with the versa (if i get the manual transmission) and it starts at about 11,000.
Dad: You, driving with a clutch -- whoa!
Jamie: my car now is a clutch
Dad: oh
Jamie: you don't remember me crying while you taught me how to drive it?
Dad: that's right
Jamie: i guess it isn't burned into your memory
Dad: It's not that, it's more a matter of the memory burning away.
My dad teaching me how to drive stick? TRAUMATIC. There were tears. And yelling. And stopping at the intersection to switch seats while we drove the rest of the way home in awkward silence. (It's easy to mix up 3rd and 1st gear when it's new, okay?!) I shouldn't have reminded him, and made him teach it to me again. Amaze him with my seemingly innate ability to drive a manual transmission. Maybe heal some of that awkward trauma and gain some "best daughter ever" points (as if I need anymore).
2 comments:
Oh, dads.
My experience of learning the clutch was similar. Only, um, I got in a car accident on like my second day learning. Mmmmmm, so fun.
Driving an automatic transmission with dad was traumatic enough.
I SAW the biker, dad. I swear.
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