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When I was 15 years old, my father taught me how to drive in a church parking lot.
Years later, I appreciated the irony of taking a neophyte out in three tons of metal to be watched over by our Good Lord. Somehow that blessing didn’t help much as I lurched along in our Mercedes Benz 240D four-speed manual transmission family car. Now, the idea of driving struck a loud chord in my teenage heart. The reality of manipulating the gears was another thing.
My father is a logical man, an engineer, so he started off our first driving lesson by drawing a diagram of how gears work in a car. In hindsight, this was a great idea. If I could see it on paper, it might make more sense in three-dimensional reality. In truth, I couldn’t have cared less. I just wanted to get behind the wheel.
My father admitted, years later, that he was worried about my slow learning curve. The relationship between clutch, gas, and brake was tenuous for quite some time. (We only had manual transmissions in my house.) However, once the muscle connection clicked, I could never go back.
I had not only gained a new family member, I had also gained a need for more car doors. Therein lay my dilemma.
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I started by driving a 1978 BMW 320i for two years. While it had no power steering, I understood the idea that it “handled well.” It was definitely my first love affair with a car. It was followed by an automatic Pontiac which was basically like driving a boat. Then, I invested in my first car, a Honda civic hatchback. It was a five-speed manual transmission, and I loved it. Critics complained about the road noise. It sounded sporty to me, especially with my graduate student budget.
It was ideal until I had a child. Something about a three-door car (a hatch is a door?) with a car seat spelled disaster for my back. Lugging my child in and out of the car as he continued to gain weight (as he should!) became a recipe for disaster. I had not only gained a new family member, I had also gained a need for more car doors. Therein lay my dilemma.
Initially, I decided to go after a Prius. Who doesn’t like a Prius? The mileage was through the roof. The new parent with an eye to future generations and current progeny felt I was making not only a green choice but choice around my legacy. At the car dealership, I hopped into the silver Prius and revved the engine. Well, not exactly, but I tuned that lack of road noise out. “Sporty” should give way to “wise,” right?
My right hand felt like a tumbleweed drifting through the desert of the car. It was useless. I stuck it to the steering wheel and took the car out for a drive. If you can imagine driving a sofa, that’s how it felt to drive the Prius. Turning radius? Pshaw! Feeling the road? Naw. A sense of being connected to the vehicle? No way. My dreams of being an environmentally conscious parent setting a good example for my year-old child (already at that tender impressionable age) went up like so much exhaust. I couldn’t do it. My ecological ego limped back to the dealership where I handed the keys back and lugged my baby to my “three-door” car.
Here was my dilemma: Did I want to save the environment or actually enjoy my ride?
Transportation is the largest single source of air pollution in the United States. I knew this, and yet . . . when I stumbled back into a Honda dealership, I found love again, in the sweet seat of a used Honda Fit. By gum, I was actually driving a veritable car, not a La-Z-Boy. I could control it, feel the road, make choices that I would make, not the car. So I bought it.
Here’s the thing, if there were an electric or hybrid car that was also a stick shift, I would buy it. Is that kind of transmission even logical?
The short answer is a resounding no. The efficiency losses as electric power travels through a traditional drivetrain aren’t favorable for power delivery. It’s more practical to simply pair an electric motor directly to the driven wheels. Additionally, most cars aren’t accelerating past 100 mph in normal driving scenarios, and these speeds can be accomplished with just a single gear.
I was saddened when I read this, though the author of that article also seems to understand that “[t]he manual gearbox truly lives on for simple driving pleasure, and that’s something a future electric sports car could still take advantage of.”
Therein is the rub. If I hadn’t had a child, perhaps I would still have my old hatchback. No need to car shop right away. Wait for Tesla prices to drop.
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It also got me thinking. Why do people choose to do things that are pleasurable even if they are ultimately destructive in the long-term? In this Princeton study, the researchers found “[o]ur emotional brain has a hard time imagining the future, even though our logical brain clearly sees the future consequences of our current actions.” While I understand the ramifications of driving a car which could be more fuel-efficient and less polluting, the pleasure I get in the short-term is really big.
My now 7-year-old son is pushing me to buy a Tesla. I have ridden in one, and it’s quite amazing (aside from near-whiplash from its incredible acceleration). If I could afford it, I’d buy it. And the poor Prius? A recent review of the 2017 model claims “for the first time ever, the Prius drives very much like a regular car.” Maybe there’s hope yet.
In the meantime, when it comes to impacting the environment, Green Car Reports tells us “family planning and contraception may be more cost-effective.” Therein is the rub. If I hadn’t had a child, perhaps I would still have my old hatchback. No need to car shop right away. Wait for Tesla prices to drop. Then, take my hard-earned ducats and go for a ride on the Sonoma Raceway with 12 turns, 2.53 miles and lots of altitude changes . . . I could floor it in my Tesla and see what happens. Until then, I’ll chug along in my Fit, child in tow, playing my gears and pretending to be Alain Prost at the Grand Prix.
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