Missing from the latest generation is a certain right of passage into
adulthood. At 16 or so you can still get your license, which still doesn’t
prove you know how to drive, but today no one knows how to drive a manual
transmission. Last year when Christopher was in Europe, he got to drive his
friends from Barcelona to Paris because the rented BMW had a stick, and he was
the only one who knew how to drive one. Both my sons learned the skill early,
and while some still struggle finding D for drive, so many don’t have to, want
to, or know how to drive a clutch. What is that mysterious third pedal from the
right for? And with 95% of new cars sold with automatics, it is possible that
soon no one under 25 will even know what a manual transmission is. No more
jokes about the famous Mexican race driver Manual Shift, no more burn outs, heel
and toe shifts, and learning to downshift. Point and steer will take all their
mental capacity, and then some, and as joy stick shifters become the norm, their
whole driving experience will be like a 4 wheel Game Boy or Play Station.
Except when they crash there is not reset button. And I foresee a whole new
medical problem with those who paddle shift, arthritis will set in, lawyers will
advertise on TV for great gain, and the joy stick will be the only way to
go-literally. And as I fondly look back to high school, the only good thing was
the burnouts after school in the parking lot. Where at the circle at the end of
it, we took turns buying a gallon of bleach every day, and doing smoky
burnouts. Longest, loudest, smokiest, until Mr. Orrico chased us away. But I
think he was really jealous, as he wanted to join us in the fun. Gone are the
days of dropping the clutch at a light, wheels spinning, tires burning, and car
sliding sideways under power. A quick shift to second and the fun starts
allover again. And although the new electronic automatics will get you there
faster, the thrill is gone. And with traction control, so are the burnouts.
And tire screeching. No more, “Bob must be leaving for school, I can hear that
302 winding out.” No more rock crusher Muncies, and with it an atrophying of
the left leg, which years later after many millions spent on studies, they will
find is attributed to the automatic transmission. Only prolonged by left foot
on the brake, reaching a certain RPM, and releasing it-just not the same as
dumping the clutch.
When we moved to So Cal in the late eighties, I applied at Coca Cola.
Having driven bottle trucks, and 18 wheelers there, I was amazed and
disappointed to find all their fleet was Allison automatics, not a Road Ranger
to be found. No splitters, no two speed rears. These were sedans disguised as
trucks. Their reasoning was all the hills in San Diego please don’t tell my
friends in Colorado, we thought we had hills, and drove manuals! One trip down
the grade into Silverton on an icy road may change their mind about that! You
need all the gears you can get, and then some.
And I can remember when the 4 in 442 stood for 4 speed trans, the Beach
Boys sang about a 4 speed 409, and 4 on the floor was better than three on the
tree. And how the really fast guys could power shift that old Chevy with the
column shift faster than any kid with heavy clutch attached to a floor shifter.
Who can forget Linda Vaughn, a teenagers dream, Miss Hurst Shifter, and the rite
of passage to manhood? How excited an we get about a joy stick, that shifts
faster than we can, but without all the fun? Did Richard Petty drive an
automatic? Did Dale Earnhardt? Does Jimmie J? And so I quietly mourn the
passing of the third pedal from the right. Replaced with of all things a dead
foot pedal, what an appropriate name. RIP 4 Scheifer clutches, burnouts, and
spinning a brodie. Now you are under control, no one knowing you were totally
under control in the middle of your stoplight run.
Mention meekness to a group, and the vision of a 98 pound weakling, 4 eyes
behind horn rimmed glasses, and pocket protectors are envisioned. Remember Mort
Meek of cookie fame? Until he ate his Oreos, maybe we need to bring back the
milk and cookie moms from after school too. If she can get off of work. But
meekness before I was saved was thought to be weakness, and no one wanted to be
weak, or meek. And when scripture told us “the meek shall inherit the earth, I
had visions of a society in white shirts, narrow ties, crew cuts, and oxfords
inhabiting heaven. But boy was I wrong, a lesson in paying attention. Meekness
to God, and to Christians means power under control. Like in racing, getting
the power to the pavement. Like throttle down in a power slide. Like choosing
the right gear down a hill on a snowy night. Too much power, you get towed
home. Not enough, the hill wins. It takes the right amount of throttle to keep
the power on, and in life we call it living in the spirit. Galatians calls it
meekness. And an even better description is “not doing the wrong thing when it
would be OK to do it.” Such as, turning the other cheek. Taking advantage of
someone not as strong or smart as you. Or as Jesus showed us, the last fruit in
the spirit, self control. He could have come down from the cross, He could even
avoided it, yet went voluntarily-under control. He could have with a thought
destroyed the man whipping him 39 times. He could have disarmed the soldier
nailing his wrists to the cross, but he didn’t. He knew what he had to do, and
did it. His choice. Meekness, power under control. And all manifested in him
by the choices he made. And can be in the choices we make. God has given us
the choice to make a choice, and meekness shows in those we make. We show mercy
when we could prosecute. We help out the man who cut us off rather than
flipping him off. We give enough power to each situation to keep the power on,
yet we don’t lose traction, we don’t enter into sin. We learn to feather the
clutch of choice when losing control, when to upshift when we are done and need
to move on. We can match the rpm’s with the road speed and downshift to get up
a hill, or over an obstacle. We have the choice, to make the choice, to be just
like Jesus. Exercising self control by the decisions we make. And unlike being
caught up in legalism, where we are told how to react in each and every
situation, God allows situations not covered in the manual so we have to go to
him for advice. Keeping the relationship healthy, and not atrophying due to
nonuse or misuse.
So if you have gone on automatic in your walk with Christ, before you
become a burnout, maybe you need to shift gears, to mentally and physically make
a decision to change the course you are on. Slow down, if you are ahead of the
great shepherd, trouble looms. If way behind, you really aren’t following, you
are lagging behind, and fall prey to those who prey on the weak. It takes
meekness to walk with Christ, next to him. Talking with him, not yelling “wait
up,” or worse yet, “c’mon Jesus, I’m in a hurry.” It takes meekness to walk in
Christ, are you up to it?
Maybe you just need to put it in neutral at the next light, give your foot
a rest. Or maybe you just need to get out and play, and be a kid again. Slide
sideways, do a burnout or two, rev up the engine, and sound cool. But keep It
under control, and when the spirit guides, you are in for the ride of your
life. Some live life a quarter mile at a time, but the miles still add up. No
matter what you drive, drive with Jesus. Dare to be meek, and find a power you
never knew existed in God. And just a drag racer’s hint. Don’t rev your
engine, find the right rpm, then take off when the light turns green. Keep the
throttle steady, and win more races. Just like Jesus would, steady and under
control.
Manual shifting, your choice. Let me know, I’ll bring the bleach.
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com