Learning manual gear

The second day I arrived in Italy, I had to learn to drive manual gear. Mentally, I had been preparing for this, as part of my work exchange entailed driving two teenagers to the train station every day. I knew early on that manual gear was a skill I would have to pick up during my stay.

After my flight across the Atlantic, I slept off my jet-lag overnight. The next morning we would work on adjusting my driving to Italy. Their car was a 2012 black Fiat Panda. The plan was to find an empty lot to practice in but after looking for a few minutes, I guess my host mother abandoned that idea. She pulled to the side of the road and casually announced that we could start here.

You gotta be fucking kidding me, I thought.

We were on the side of a small one-lane road with roundabouts on either end, and a steady flow of cars driving back and forth. My hopes of a vacant ten-acre American mega-mall parking lot dissipated when we both exited the car to switch seats.

Anxiety is not a good co-pilot when driving in unfamiliar territory. With my windshield flooded with images of Italian traffic signs and two more limbs in use, I quickly forgot any advice anyone told me about driving manual. Fortunately I had watched two YouTube videos before arriving, and I did not need a third to figure out that: one, the thing I was doing with the car was called stalling; and two, a roundabout is not a good place to do that.

In truth, this was actually my second time driving manual gear. I had learned it once before, about six years ago. One of my best friends from high school had been interested in driving a manual car, so he bought an old little Scion when he had the money. One time when we went driving around, he tried to teach me manual gear. We found an empty road and switched seats. After giving me the rundown and a few stalls, I was able to successfully perform an upshift.

I tried channeling this memory in the Fiat, but my muscle memory failed me. Apparently those ten minutes of driving six years ago was not going to save me now.

We went back and forth down that street, boomeranging from roundabout to roundabout. Miraculously, I managed not to crash. When I got out of the car, my hands were shaking a little. Among my first thoughts were how much I hated manual gear, and that I should probably watch a third YouTube video.

About a month later, the words “used Fiat Panda” suddenly appeared on my search history. I have never been one to hold onto the idea of a dream car, but I think I got a little curious. At this point, my hands and feet have started to glide across the clutch and gear stick automatically, which I guess has freed up space in my mind to think of other things.

Last week I finished Mr Ma and Son, a book by Lao She about a Chinese immigrant and his son starting a new life in London. From the moment they arrive in their new home, both father and son are too preoccupied thinking of returning to China to fully commit to their life in London. This weekend I will also go to London. Funny enough, I’ve been told by many people that one thing I must do in Italy, is to go to a different country in Europe. I’ve spent the better part of the last month and a half learning Italian, but not much practicing. Though I know I might not get the chance to drive manual for a long time, I’m excited let my brain go on automatic for a few days.

I’ve been taking a lot of long walks here in Italy. Stiff hands and morning frost now accompany me, and I’ve started thinking that a long drive wouldn’t be the worst way to disrupt this string of crisp Autumn walks. One day, when driving back home from the station, I passed by an old green Suzuki parked in the city square. A quick Google search later, and I added Suzuki Vitara as the first on my list of dream cars. I know I will probably never have it, and I’m not sure I really want it either, but I’ll keep it on the list just in case. An old manual car wouldn’t be the worst way to escape for a bit when life gets a little heavy. I’ve started to enjoy driving manual gear here, and I’m sure I’ll miss it once I leave.