Gerry took me to a secluded lake association, complete with twisty, hilly, partially-paved mountain roads. This was not my first time in a car with a manual transmission; I had been with two other people beforehand. My issue was getting the car going; I would release the clutch too quicky, and the car would stall. Before I made Gerry take the wheel and bring me back to his house, I had managed to get the car going from a stop on a flat plane with a bit of extra torque a couple of times. And then I had to work on the hill starts. That was where things were really getting out of hand.
My only regret was not taking motion sickness beforehand, even though I had the pills in the Mazda. Every jolt from stalling the car made this sickness worse. And there were plenty of stalls. It was a good thing that I had nothing to eat for lunch, because twice, I had to get out of the car and dry heave. I had underestimated my lack of experience from driving a stick and the true nature of the roads I was practicing on. But now, I felt like I had a better understanding of how to work a clutch.
I was allowed to take the car back to my aunt's that night, where I was staying. It was about a forty-minute drive (because New Hampshire), so I tanked up at the gas station down the street and set off. I stalled once leaving the gas station, and everything was fine as I took I-93 S towards Sutton. But as soon as I got off that exit ramp, things went wrong.
My nerves were really building up as I kept stalling at that stop sign. I lost track at 12 stalls, and was especially freaking out at the white smoke coming from underneath the hood. I finally managed to get the car moving again after stopping and counting out loud, but when I tried to move from the last stoplight later on, I stalled again. Right in front of a pickup truck. Which blared its horn at me in a sign of disapproval as I put my hazards on and the light went red again. But the guy wasn't a dick about it; he pulled up next to me and asked if everything was alright. I told him that I was new to a stick, and he understood. I've never had that happen to me before in any other state for any other reason. New Hampshire drivers are pretty chill in my book now.
The next morning, I took the car out for a drive again. I went up and down Routes 103 and 114 for a few miles without issue. Then I took a side road with a steep incline to work on my hill starts. This time, I only stalled seven times. (Progress!) After some more driving on some back roads, I went back to my aunt's farm, with just enough confidence to convince myself that I could do this in my own car in Japan. (Also, VW, if you're reading this, your "hill start assist" does not really do as advertised. But at least your ESC worked on the unpaved hills.)
That afternoon, I reached another milestone as I drove home with my mother. Even with all the hills, sticking to the posted speed limits managed to get me to 43 MPG in the Mazda just as we hit the New Hampshire-Vermont border, the highest it's ever been. I made it back to Old Saybrook in one drive, no stopping, all on half a tank, with a trip average of 40.6 MPG. (Only nine miles left for range when I made it to the pump.) I'm going to miss this car when I go to Japan. (I technically could take it with me, but it would cost about $4-5k after all said and done just to get it there.)
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| Not bad for a 2.5L inline-four. |
-wp
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