It’s a beat-up 1994 Jeep. The bumper has a crack in it that I glued over instead of replacing because it’s not worth it. It’s got grime worked into the fabric of the cargo deck because I use it to haul junk like lawn debris. It’s so scratched from driving on narrow off-road paths it needs a new paint job. It’s got a rusted kayak rack on the top and a cassette deck in the dash — no CD. I haven’t used the tape deck in years. As far as I can tell, it would sell for $3,000 to $5,000 on the used car market, or maybe less.
But if you offered me $15,000 for it, I’d turn you down.
I’ll tell you why.
It’s got a stick.
I saw an article saying that standard transmissions in automobiles are going the way of rumble seats. Only 7 percent of new cars have them. Only 10 percent or so of drivers want them.
Why? Once, manual transmission cars were cheaper and arguably better for mileage. No longer. And folks are simply into the convenience of automatic. These days, we want to get in front of our new computer, television, or car and just power it up without a tutorial.
Personally, I think there are two other factors behind the decline of the stick: Cell phones and drive-thru windows. I don’t recall half of all motorists having a mug in their hands 30 years ago. They didn’t even make cars with cup-holders then. Now, car ads boast of cup-holders as a selling point.
So you need your free hand for coffee.
And of course, a cell.
I’m as guilty as anyone. My main car is an automatic with about eight cup holders. And yes, a cell phone power cord.
Still, if I could have gotten my current car — a Saturn Outlook — with a stick, I’d have done it. But I couldn’t.
That’s why I’m holding onto the old Jeep.
It’s not that I’m some car aficionado. I’m not the kind of guy who “talks cars.”
But I do feel there are two ways to see an automobile.
Most simply use them for transportation.
Then there’s driving.
If you want to be driving, you need a stick.
It’s true that the measure of a “good driver” is someone who is careful, reactive and alert. But most folks should be able to do that if they pay attention.
I’m talking here about “driving” as a skill. Knowing how to clutch and shift is a talent. It takes hours of practice. Most who are new at a manual will let the clutch go too quickly, lurch and stall. Then they’ll repeat 30 times.
I bought my first stick car in 1974. Back then, you could ask for manual with almost any model. My salary that year was $10,000, so I thought I could afford a car for that same money, and bought a low-end Audi. I forgot that I’d also need to pay for things like food and rent.
But I was hooked.
My previous car had been an old Mercury Marquis, automatic, bought my senior year in college because it was a cheap $500 boat. I never felt I was “driving” that car.
My new stick vehicle was different. It made you feel engaged. You actually had to make decisions, like which gear to be in. You worked it from first to fourth instead of just putting the car in drive and accelerating. You watched the tachometer, at least at first, and then got good enough to shift by listening to the sound of the RPMs. You used the engine to slow down instead of just the brakes. If you were really good, you learned to double-clutch.
Some might say stick drivers are less alert since they are distracted by clutching and shifting. I think it’s the opposite. Even the most attentive automatic drivers tend to let their minds drift a bit since there’s little to do but turn, and push a pedal. When your car is manual, you are involved in each moment.
And there’s also perhaps the best reason to drive standard. Shifting is cool. I don’t think James Bond would have had the same cachet with an automatic Chevy Impala as he did with a manual Aston Martin.
My next car was a VW Rabbit, stick of course. Again, this being around 1980, there were plenty of choices. I lived in Providence by then, and the city taught me to be an even better manual driver. If you’re stopped at a red light steeply pointing up on College Hill, you have to be good to avoid stalling.
A few years later, I got my first Jeep, also a clutch. By then — late ’80s — there were far fewer choices.
My 1994 Grand Cherokee — the one I still own — was my third Jeep, and by the time I was ready for a newer car, sticks had mostly disappeared.
So I held onto that Jeep. I’m glad I did.
Today, instead of sticks, cars have cup-holders. I suppose that says a lot about how we live in 2009.
I know the Jeep won’t last forever. When it finally goes, I can’t imagine I’ll find another stick that fits my lifestyle.
At that point, I’ll only have an automatic.
I’m sure it’ll be a car I like, one that will get me where I want to go.
But I’ll miss driving.
mpatinkin@projo.com
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