Why I Missed/Love Clarissa Clutch. in Whey and Sonic Screwdrivers.

Or, “Where Timmy takes an Elitist attitude against Automatic Transmission.”

So, my dad and I visited my sister this week. I like my sister, but am indifferent to spending time around him. Still, despite how much I talk shit about him, I didn’t want him driving by himself. We took his car, marking the first time in eight years that I’ve driven an automatic transmission (car for a protracted period of time.)

A: Acceleration. Coming from a dead-stop, I kept either overrevving or underrevving the engine. I couldn’t find the sweet spot. I’m used to upshifting between 3k and 4k rpms. And I’m willing to bet you really never noticed unless you drove stick. Accelerating while moving is also tricky. If I want power, I normally downshift. Downshifting in an automatic is a tricky game where you have to press down quickly, but not too fast or you’ll overrev the engine.

B: Deceleration. You’d think “Just press the brake.” You have to understand, once you really drive stick, you get used to the amount of control you have. Let’s say I’m entering an offramp. Normally, I’d downshift to fourth while softly braking. Or just coast, depending on the angle of the offramp. There is no “deceleration coast” in automatic as much. Automatic wants you to go as fast as possible in order to conserve fuel efficiency. Or let’s suppose you see traffic up ahead is slowing down. I’d just downshift and coast. Automatic, you generally have to physically brake.

C: 90 degree turns. This might take a bit to explain. I found myself braking REALLY hard on his car around 90 degree turns. See, I normally downshift to second while turning, using a combination of engine braking and brake application. Once I’m straightened, I accelerate out of it. …If you drive stick, it makes sense. Like, if you’re doing 45, you’ll probably skip from 4th to 2nd while turning.

D: Visibility. Hey, look at the title. I love the visibility in my car. I learned to drive, and spent ten years driving, an ‘88 Caravan. Short hood, fuckton of visibility. My Honda Fit is basically a go-go-gadget version of the Caravan. Somehow, the dashboard isn’t set as high as other cars, so I don’t feel like I’m driving a tank. Not to mention the flat rear window is A+ visibility; I have very few blind spots. My car’s also relatively narrow.

E: THE SEAT AND MIRRORS ARE WHERE I LIKE THEM. Oh come on, everybody likes getting back in their own car after driving someone else’s.

F: His cupholders are in a stupid place. Cupholder placement would be a dealbreaker for me.

G: Steering/Alignment. I always thought my dad was just terrible at maintaining his lane. You know, cringe and hope he doesn’t kill you. (My sister could tell you stories.) He drifts to the right a lot. (That he doesn’t always signal is another story.) Driving his car, I found myself also drifting to the right. That’s weird, as I usually run close to the left-side lane markers. As well, I have a bad habit of shifting with no hands on the wheel. Clarissa has either good alignment, or good power steering, or both.

H: My seats are fuzzy. It’s one of the most trivial things in the world, as our naked butts usually don’t feel the seats, but. One of the reasons I took an interest in my car when I bought it was the seat fabric is soft. Now when I get in someone else’s car, I feel the seats and judge. And totally am down with people who equip seatcovers.

I: Car alarms. My car doesn’t have one. I mean, when’s the last time you heard a car alarm and thought “Gee, someone’s car is being stolen.” I unlocked the door to his car, got in, and the alarm went off. We’ve never even heard it before. He had to show me how to hit a button on the key, which is just stupid to me. STUPID. If you have my key, you’ll go “Oh. It’s a Honda.” If you have his key, just hit the panic button and you’ll find his car, ready to steal. Also didn’t help that all the buttons on his key were rubbed out. Great.

J: My car has a great name. All cars deserve awesome names. Okay, now I’m just grasping at straws.