Manual Transmission

Until last night I hadn't driven a stick-shift in 6 years, and even back in '03 I never really drove on a 'road'.  So you can understand my fearful excitement when Kevin tossed me the keys to his  manual transmission automobile last night after he had one too many bottles of golden nectar at the youth center.  You read it right.  I said youth center.

Connected to the kindergarten located down the right field line of The Boars' home field is a youth center.  By ascending steps, one may pass from the youth center proper to the youth center bar.  The bar is more reminiscent of a coffee house than of any bar I've ever seen.  There are several couches, a few round tables with chairs, free wireless internet access, 2 euro bottles of beer, and bags of chips that come gratis.  They serve no coffee, but you can get tea or lemonade.   Bavarian playing cards are available upon request, and the bar is equipped with a projector and movie screen for live broadcasts of soccer matches and Germany's Next Top Model.  If you run out of smokes, don't worry, there's a cigarette machine inside and a smoking porch just out the door.

I don't know about you, but I'm used to youth centers being publicly funded places for nerds to play Dungeons and Dragos and neglected children to tag with four letter words or pictures of the male anatomy.  I'm used to youth centers pretending to be a place free of alcohol and cigarettes.  I'm used to youth centers being an empty waste of space.  I am not used to youth centers acting as the spot for 18-24 year old men and women still living at home and looking to have a relaxing night out without having to go into the city on a school night.  

But back to the driving:  

After an hour or two at the youth center we decided it was time to leave.  Kevin was probably under the legal limit, but didn't want to chance it, and being the only sober person without a car of his own, I found myself in the driver's seat.  I smoothly backed the car out of the spot, shifted direclty into third gear, and somehow managed not to stall out as I pulled to the edge of the parking lot.  As I went to turn out of the lot, however, my six years of rust caught up to me and I stalled out.  I restarted the car in first and made my turn.  As I felt the engine grumble I smoothly shifted into...wait for it...third gear.  

2 minutes later we arrived safely at Kevin's house.

Me: 1 - Stick-Shift: 0