Category: Car Stuff

  • Automatic to Manual

    Automatic to Manual

    I recently had to replace my car. I loved my X-Trail. I loved the number of cup holders, the storage space for all my bits, the comfy seats – if only the head gasket hadn’t blown. So now I have a much earlier model Honda CRV. It only has one cup holder, no compartments for all my bits and the seats are not as comfy, but unlike the X-Trail – it goes! Which is, after all, all you really want from a car. Also, unlike the X-Trail – it’s a manual!

    I learnt to drive in a manual. I had a 1956 Morris Minor bought with the money I saved working at the neighbour’s fish and chip shop my last couple of years of high school. I also had a 1975 Ford Escort van so I had something to drive and sleep in, when the Morris was being repaired. The thing with the Morris, and most early model cars, was there was no synch in first gear. Which meant you had to stop the car to go back into first. For those of you who have always driven automatics, just skim past.

    So on the day I went for my licence, I drove through Hobart peak hour traffic in second gear without ever going back to first for stops and starts. My father was in the back trying to nudge me to let me know, while the testing officer was completely oblivious. He had just won lotto. His mood was not going to be changed by my driving. I’m not sure I deserved my licence and to this day, I have never claimed to be a good driver. Not one single individual will argue the opposite!

    In the Army, I had to learn to drive land rovers and commodores! I didn’t apply to join Transport and drive trucks and no one suggested I go there, but for a few months I was the Commanding Officer’s driver. This was supposed to involve driving him around, but he insisted on driving most of the time, once we got outside the gates. I enjoyed driving back then. I drove the retiring RSM from Wodonga Vic to Perth WA in his land rover, towing a caravan and I drove from Melbourne to Townsville in my Escort van to take up my new post. I was a teenager. I knew no fear!

    To obtain my police driver’s licence so I could drive the cars with the flashing blue lights, I had to learn to drive all over again. I loved the skid pan. I think the point was to control the skid but I loved making the car skid harder. I was eventually granted a ‘D’ grade licence. I didn’t actually cause any accidents so they reluctantly passed me.

    Anyway – back to now and back to driving a manual car after twenty years in an automatic. It’s been a challenge. The biggest challenge has been remembering which gear I am in. I’ve crunched through a few trying to work it out but it just means I have to pay attention. And that made me reflect on how little attention I had paid to my driving when in an automatic. I just pushed the pedal and drove!

    I’m not a person who excels at automatic tasks. even typing, my brain keeps getting involved and trips me up. Back to the police academy and the list of things we had to achieve to graduate. One of them was to touch type at 30 words a minute. Some in our class could type three times that with ease but I struggled. Remember this was on a typewriter! On the rare occasion I just reacted and cut out the middle man, my fingers and eyes managed to get to the magical 30, but most of the time as soon as my brain realised things were happening without its involvement, fingers hit wrong keys or forgot where they were and the test failed. If only I could just type without thinking! But driving without thinking I achieved and I’m not sure that’s a good thing.

    At the police academy, we had to do a running commentary as we drove to ensure our brain was always present and so were we. How many of us are truly present when we are driving? How far ahead do you look? Are you watching to see if that driver coming out into traffic has seen you? Have you estimated how likely it is that the light will turn red before you reach it? What’s happening behind you? Have you looked?So much to think about but how many of us do it?

    So the point of this rather convoluted journey down memory lane is that going back to driving a manual has forced me to be present when I’m driving, if only so I can remember what gear I am in. Am I in fifth or third? If I go back and across will it be fourth or second? Driving is no longer an automatic task and I’m sure that’s the way it should be.

    The same with writing. I can and do sit down and write without thinking. These blog posts are more or less an automatic response to a prompt I have given myself and I just write what comes into my mind. Automatic. It’s ok. Most of the time it makes sense. It might even be entertaining but is it great writing?

    Writing is what happens when you switch off the automatic and go into manual. What gear am I in? Does this sentence belong here? Have I built up tension or can I go back to third? What’s this character even doing in my story? Do I need them? What is their role? Do I need to slow things down or speed up to reach the top? Writing requires the writer to be present and know which vehicle is being driven, in what gear and at what speed. The writer needs to be able to see what is coming and take the reader with them, not leave them on the side of the road waiting for an uber.

    Writing, like driving, requires skill and the ability to know where you are going and how to get there. It may be fun to stay in automatic and just write, just drive, but if you want to write things people will love to read, you need to go back to manual and keep working on the craft and skill that is writing!

    I’m still working on it:-)

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  • Car Trouble and Comfort Zones

    Car Trouble and Comfort Zones

    Is there anything worse than car trouble? I’m sure there are a million things worse, but when you live in the bush with no public transport, car trouble can feel like the end of the world.

    But I’m a hermit, I hear you say, and that is true, but I still need to get to the shops, take my grandson to school and, most importantly, pick up books from the post office or the library. It’s a 30 km round trip, so too far to walk. Car trouble is serious!

    I’ve known my car was dying for a while, so only drove it when I had to while I saved for a replacement. But my anxiety driving it increased to the extent I had to take action.

    Facebook market place. I’ve always bought from car dealers, but as this last one came from a dealer with preexisting problems they wouldn’t cover, I saw no advantage going back, so I searched for vehicles, and more importantly, reputable sellers. It’s a minefield out there.

    My rusty investigative skills came in handy. If a deal looked too good to be true, I looked up the seller to see if they were even in Tasmania. Quite a few weren’t. If I answered an add and the seller was pushy or wanted a deposit before I’d even seen the car, block and move on. Eventually, I found a car advertised by someone with a mutual friend. Now that in no way guarantees the car, but I did trust the seller was a real person and I answered straight away. I now own that car and the mechanic said it was safe to drive and in good condition for its age. One problem solved.

    Now I had to sell my dying car. Still going but not healthy. Aha – this is the reason I buy from car yards. I can get rid of my other car with no hassles.

    I advertised on FB, making sure I worded the advert to specify the car was dying and only suitable for a mechanic or someone who wanted it for parts. I had zero expectations.

    Within minutes, my phone was blowing up with responses. Over thirty before I switched it off. The person I sold it to was initially very pushy, so I wouldn’t deal with him, but had I understood the industry, I would have sold my car for the asking price in five minutes. As it was, I sold it for the price I wanted within twenty minutes and organised to meet the next day to complete the transaction.

    I WAS NOT going to meet an unknown person with a tow truck in the bush at night! Some comfort zones are safety zones. No need to stretch those!

    It seems there is a whole word of people who buy cars like mine and rebuild, resell or scrap and getting in first is quite competitive, hence the pushiness. You learn something new with each new experience.

    So what has any of this got to do with writing picture books? I’m glad you asked. This year has been a year of stretching myself and gaining confidence in my writing and myself as a writer in a very competitive (but very kind and not pushy) industry. I’ve conquered some fears with CYA and I’m working up to submissions.

    Once upon a time I would never have e dreamt of selling a car on my own. Even buying filled me with dread. I tend to drive within the car’s capacity until I’m forced to take action.

    Parents are good sounding boards, even if they don’t know about the subject. Dad always knew the questions to ask and what to look for, but I’ve lost mine so this one, I had to do alone. And I think facing my fears with CYA made me strong enough to face my fears about buying and selling my car.

    I think if you aren’t putting yourself out of your comfort zone, just a bit, that zone shrinks and your world gets smaller. I’ve seen it in myself and others, especially after lockdowns and retirement.

    It’s easy to live a small life. But, as Malcolm Fraser once said, ‘life wasn’t meant to be easy!’

    What if you faced a fear or three and stretched what is comfortable? What would happen then? What if you made your life, ‘not easy’ a little bit at a time?

    For me – I now have a car I feel safe in and can leave the property more often. I also know I will never put up with a broken car because the process of changing it is hard.

    Stretching the comfort zone becomes an ever-increasing circle.

    I stretched by having assessments at CYA. That gave me the confidence to do something about my car and now I’ve done that and sorted out all the insurance, registrations, etc. I will use that sense of accomplishment to submit some stories.

    Coffee first!

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