Manual Transmission PTSD
How a Red Cavalier and a Steep Hill Gave Me Lifelong Anxiety
There’s a particular brand of psychological warfare that only fathers of a certain generation understand: buying your teenage child a manual transmission car without teaching them how to drive it first.
My dad is a practitioner of this art form.
Picture this: I’m sixteen, finally getting my first car. I’m expecting something reasonable. Maybe a used Honda with an automatic transmission and working A/C. Instead, my dad purchased a red Chevrolet Cavalier with a stick shift at the dealership.
Did I mention I had never driven a manual transmission? Not once. Not even in a parking lot.
After signing the paperwork, my dad looked at me with the casual confidence of a man who had clearly blocked out his own learning experience and said, “See you at home.”
Then he got in his car and drove away. No lie.
I cried the entire way home. Every. Single. Mile. The Cavalier jerked and lurched through the streets like a mechanical bull at a particularly aggressive rodeo. I stalled at every stop sign. I’m pretty sure I burnt the shit out of that clutch and pissed off every car along my path home, which was about 10-15 miles.
But here’s the thing - I eventually figured it out. And once you learn to drive stick, you join this weird, semi-exclusive club of people who believe they’re better drivers than everyone else. Are we? Probably not. Do we think we are? Absolutely.
The greatest nemesis of any manual driver? The red light on a hill. If you’ve never experienced the pure anxiety of stopping on an incline with a car three inches from your bumper, congratulations on your automatic transmission and your unearned peace of mind. You have to perfectly time releasing the brake, pressing the gas, and easing off the clutch—all while your car does its best impression of a boulder rolling backward. The driver behind you has no idea they’re witnessing a high-stakes performance worthy of a standing ovation.
I genuinely wonder what would happen if someone pulled up to a modern valet stand with a manual transmission today. Would they know what to do? Would they stare at the gear shift like archaeologists examining an ancient artifact? Would they simply hand the keys back and suggest you park it yourself?
I imagine there’s a whole generation of valets who’ve never encountered a clutch pedal in the wild. It’s like showing up with a rotary phone and asking them to make a call.
The manual transmission is dying. Most new cars don’t even offer them anymore. And honestly, I get it. Automatics are easier, more efficient, and they don’t require you to develop PTSD related to hillside traffic lights.
But there was something about that moment when the clutch, gas, and gear shift finally worked together in harmony—when you stopped thinking about each movement and just drove—that felt like a genuine accomplishment.
Plus, it gave me a great origin story. Not everyone can say their father traumatized them with a Chevy Cavalier and zero instructions.
Thanks, Dad. I think.
First car- VW Bug. And we lived on a steep hill! Survival meant learning fast. And yes, I felt like a great driver, just as you described. Fun read!
I felt the same way in a manual car when I stated to drive. I’ll never forget how I’d drive out of the way to avoid hills and having trouble rolling while shifting. Stuff nightmares are made of.