Life in the Fast Lane

I remember the time we bought your Lexus.  You had to have a 5 speed manual car.  After weeks of looking at every car dealership in Atlanta, we found a Subaru WRX late one evening, and I put it on hold with cash for the next day.  It was sold that night online, and they tried to switch cars on you.  We were very upset it the bait and switch they attempted, so we left for a car you had as a second choice.

It was a hot mess dark gray Lexus IS300 with 5 speed and cool stereo.  You were in love.   I was not.  We argued for hours as I said we needed to look at alternatives.  That night you hit me hard.  You said that car was made for you.  You had all the specifications and details of how it was made as well as many videos of the car performing.

By the next day, I succumbed to your arguments and we went to negotiate.  I went back and forth as you had all the bluebook information and the dealership pushed their price.  The negotiation took hours.  In the end you got your car.

Then the fun started.  You driving the car.  I had repeatedly ask you if you had every driven a manual transmission.   You said yes, you were trained in manual.  

You  entered the car put you foot on the clutch and smoke went every where.  It jumped sputtered and kicked like an old mule.

You pulled over after about 10 minutes attempting to drive.  I pulled next to you cursing and yelling at me.  I repeated my simple question, have you ever driven a manual car?  You said you had practiced with an automatic, so it should be the same.  

I calmed you down, and said let me show you.  I promised that in 30 minutes you would be driving.  I took you to a remote area with hills.  I watched as you went through my instructions.  Frustration turned to jubilation as you quickly picked up the manual transmission.  You drove me to my car, and I watched as you drove off into the horizon.  

A week later, we went on a drive where you scared the crap out of me.  You drove like a race car driver.  I tried to explain that fast equals tickets and danger.  You laughed at my fear and pounded my shoulder.  You slowed down only to appease me, but I think you never stop going fast in your car or in your life.   The full throttle life of the son that got away.

You drove like you were a professional driver; moreover, you drove like your life depended on you being able to get away.  I was always amazed by your tenacity in everything you did.