Sunday, 29 May 2005
Dear Duane
Dear Duane,
let me start by saying that I'm still alive.
I've had a terrifying adventure, and I've lived to tell about it. And since
I've lived to tell about it, you're the one who's getting told.
As I'm sure you are aware, your daughter Amy is here visiting me in New Zealand
for a few weeks. Before she arrived, I decided it was going to be cheaper to
buy a car off of my friend for NZ$400 than to rent one for upwards of $30 a
day. Since I'm going to be here until July, the car will be useful even after
Amy leaves. And to top it all off, I may even be able to sell it before I leave
(for a profit?).
As I'm sure you're also aware, Amy does not claim to know how to drive a car
with a manual transmission. I've been aware of this fact for quite some time,
and have been looking for an oportune time to teach her myself. It's one of
those things I feel everyone should know how to do. You never know when it may
save your life someday. The easiest example is if you're at a party and the
person who drove you to that party is too drunk to drive you home, but you're
still sober because (in Amy's case) there's nothing to drink at the party but
beer so you drink water instead and end up being the default designated driver.
But the car in question is a stick. You'd want to know how to drive that car
yourself, wouldn't you? Exactly.
But back to the story at hand. I finally had a car and opportunity to teach
Amy how to drive a stick. We were outside of a town called Hokitika on the west
coast of the South Island of New Zealand when I gave Amy her first lesson. We
were on our way back to the Backpackers Hostel after a short hike to a Gorge
when I gave her the wheel. It was a quiet dirt road out in the middle of nowhere.
Not many cars around to run into on the wrong (sorry, "other") side
of the road. No pesky roundabouts to navigate. Speed limit of 100k (although
one shouldn't really be going that fast on a dirt road to begin with). And only
three or four New Zealand patented multi-directional one-lane bridges.
I began by getting her familiar with the grab point of the clutch. I had her
start from a standstill in first gear, and then stop and do it again. After
a fair bit of whiplash-inducing quickstarts, I was confident enough that she
was confident enough to shift from first to second. More whiplash. I had her
stop and start quite a few times, shifting only through second gear. When she
had that down, I had her drive until she had had enough. About 20-30 minutes,
I think. And then I took over again and took us back to the hostel. All in all,
she did very well.
A few days later, on our way out of the town of Te Anau with a full day of driving
ahead of us, we decided it was time for her next lesson. This time it was on
a paved State Highway. Mind you, a State Highway in New Zealand often doesn't
have much more traffic on it than the back roads out in the country. She started
off fine enough, sliding through the gears and accelerating smoothly to the
100k speed limit. I started relaxing a bit in the passenger seat, although I
occasionally suggested she try to keep the car centered in the lane, and stay
off the shoulder. But otherwise, she was doing fine.
About fifteen minutes later, we passed a sight which we knew was a photo opportunity.
Cows, Duane. But not just regular cows. These were Oreo Cookie cows. Black heads
and necks, white middles, and black hind-quarters. Just like a giant Oreo Cookie!
If you had seen them, you would have stopped for a photo, too. Amy dutifully
slowed down and inched over to the shoulder of the two-lane highway, and then,
checking her mirrors for traffic, made a u-turn where I probably would not have.
Luckily the car was small, and the road was just wide enough that we whipped
right around in one smooth (smooth like a Kangaroo on espresso!) motion. She
ran up through the gears again until we were back at the site of the cow paddock.
Amy stayed in the idling car while I jogged up the road to take a few photos
for the scrapbook (that ever-expanding, it's gonna be a work of art if it ever
gets made scrapbook).
I jogged back to the car, and off we went again. No traffic, a long straight
stretch of road with good visibility in both directions. Off we drove again,
with Amy accelerating less smoothly than before. And immidiately into another
u-turn. A jerky, jumpy u-turn which stalled at the apex. Still no traffic, but
we were now parked across two lanes like a damsel tied to a railroad track!
(Why doesn't she pull to a turnout, Duane? Or at least find a wider area of
the road?) She fired up the engine again, put the car in 1st, let out the clutch,
and stalled again. At lease four times she did this as I tried to keep myself
(and her) calm by assuring her that there were no cars coming in either direction
(luckily this was in fact the truth).
But why was she stalling? She hadn't stalled since that first day on the dirt
road. Like most roads, this one was higher in the center than on the shoulders,
so when she put in the clutch to start the engine again, I expected us to roll
into the ditch. But we didn't move. Clutch in, foot on the gas, nose downill,
and we didn't roll. I looked out my window to a car coming up over the horizon
as it dawned on me. I reached between us and released the parking brake. Smooth
acceleration, and we were back on our way. Just nerves. There's a lot to think
about when you're learning to drive a stick. Everyone forgets to take of the
parking brake a few times. I'm just glad it was on a low traffic road. It took
a few kilometers for our hearts to get back to a normal pulse rate. And all
for a few photos of a few odd looking cows. Amy drove for another hour or so
until we came to a town. A town with roundabouts. She decided to let me take
over at that stage.
Amy's final test came two days later in the tiny village of Papatowai, way down
in the south of the south island. You can't go much farther south without getting
wet. I had been driving all day as we raced around the region seeing the sights.
Waterfalls, beaches, a petrified forrest, souvenirs, etc. It wasn't until we
got back to the hostel (which in this case was a beautiful house on a hill with
a sea view which we happened to be the only guests of that night) that we realized
we didn't have anything for breakfast in the morning. I didn't feel like driving
anymore, even though the store was right down the hill. It was up to Amy.
Don't tell her this, but I actually watched the glow of the headlights from
a window as she drove down the long dirt road to the main dirt road, and then
followed them to the paved road at the corner until she disappeared behind a
row of trees. 20 minutes later, she was back again. I don't think she stalled
once. At least not until I surprised her as I popped out of the door and took
a photo as she was trying to back into the parking space.
And that's my adventure, Duane. Now all we need to do is find a manual tranmission
car in LA, and get Amy some more practice, and she'll be racing all over town
like one of the Andrettis.
I hope you're well,
Chris