I drive a 1985 Chevy Blazer- which means it's older than me. It isn't my dream car, but I love it. It gave me a scare the other day, failing to pass smog, then later breaking down randomly on the side of the road. Fortunately, Old Sparky (It got this name because it once started a grass fire on the side of the road after the catalytic converter blew out) made it.
The best part of it: It's a stick shift. Non of my friends can understand the fun of just shiftin' my stick around. It's become almost a reflex- I don't even have to think about it (unless I'm downshifting, lol slowing down!). But this makes driving other cars a pain.
My cat has four pedals; one to make you go, one to make you stop, one to make you stay stopped, and one to... well I'm not exactly sure how the clutch works, but I know it allows me to shift without my transmission falling out on the road, and allows me to scare my friends by letting me roll backwards on a hill. But my mom's care only has three of these pedals.
|Complete with duct tape.|
Nevertheless, I still try to jam my foot in the direction of clutch in her car. My hand also instinctively goes to the Prindle when going, even though the only thing I can do with it is shift it into neutral, making the engine sound like it's going to take-off (or explode) when I push in the gas.
|No idea why this is sideways. Pretend you're in the passenger seat.|