Off my high horse

So. I don’t like driving a stick.

There. I said it.

Phew! I feel better. Okay, moving on... well okay, maybe y’all want a small explanation. To be honest, I just never have grooved with it. And I was trying not to worry, thinking I would just get in and go when the time came. That I would probably kill it a few times and irritate (and amuse) several several people around me and then get better and Done!

But no. I have someone else to think about besides me, and I cannot chance putting him in danger because I can’t drive a car correctly.

And. I Don’t Like It. Cory insisted is was such a blast, that it really got in tune with your car, it was So Fun. Fail. It is not fun for me, it is stressful and turns me into a sweating, screaming mess. There’s a lot of sweating.

Now if someone needed to go to the hospital, and the only thing to drive was a five-speed? I could get us there. It would not be a smooth ride, but we would get there, and that is what counts for safety, right?

So my BMW goes back next week sometime, and I have to drive something... so I am looking. Cory is deciding if he wants to sell his GT, or the Mystic (Plan B all along was to flip the Mystic, but now he’s grown attached).

For an automatic.

And maybe we’ll find another member of our herd.