It happened very quickly.
Jay, my oldest son, was shopping for a newer car to replace his dying (and uncool) Toyota Corolla. He invited me to look at a car he was considering. I drooled, and he yawned. The car was just not his style — but it did fit my age group rather well.
Heather, Rachel and I played around with the idea of replacing our Honda Fit that year-older German car — with very little difference between each sale price. Our discussion turned into action… within a week, the title was signed over to us.
But it has a manual transmission.
A few years back, I said that I’d probably not get another car with a manual — you know, it’s just too much work in any stop-and-go commute.
But the car was so nice. The previous owner had maintained it meticulously and kept complete service records. “Only Mobil 1 for oil changes.” I could tell he was not lying, judging by the condition of every part of the car.
After a few weeks of driving, I realize that the extra effort of shifting has faded into the background. I love it.
Don’t say, “never again.”