The car Maurice and Lana used for their honeymoon was a loaner from a good friend back home. Friends lent it to them so they could go on their wedding, honeymoon, and another wedding within a three-week period of time. The car was an 18-year-old compact in reasonable condition. It wouldn’t win any beauty contests, but it got the job done.
Well and good.
But it also had a stick shift, manual transmission.
It took a bit of self-training to get used to it, but once the couple was on the road at speed, there were no problems.
The wedding and reception both went off without a hitch, so to speak.
Then came the honeymoon in a larger town known for its steep hills.
After driving the stick shift for a few days, Maurice could do it in his sleep. It seemed right to him.
The honeymoon cabin was really a small trailer Lana’s father had brought up from the Cities the week before. It wasn’t much, but honeymooners never really need much, do they?
Halfway into their two-week love fest, the couple decided to come up for air and went into the hill town to go to church on Sunday morning.
The church itself was on a hill as was all the parking, shops, and houses.
The sermon was good and the people were friendly. Perhaps they hadn’t had any guests in some time because they all seemed to glom onto the newlyweds. Even though they would probably never return to the church, the couple felt welcomed.
Now, off to lunch. Since they didn’t know the town that well, they decided to go to where the restaurants were, a row of restaurants they remembered passing on the way.
As they waited at a light, a car pulled up behind them and flashed their lights and honked once, a couple they had met at church. The church couple inched closer, which under normal circumstances was fine. But they were on a steep incline with a stick shift.
“Lana, can you motion for them to move back?” Morris said. “I really don’t want to drift back into these nice people when I release the clutch, and I certainly don’t want to pay extra for insurance next go around.”
Morris kept looking in the rear view mirror at the BMW that the couple drove. He could feel the sweat easing down his face.
Lana waved the couple back but waving is waving. The other woman returned the gestures and was waving like a wild woman herself as the car inched forward. The two cars were mere inches from each other, and Morris braced himself to do some fancy clutch and brake release.
When the light turned green, Morris closed his eyes and made his move. His car chirped its tires and was on top of the half-mile hill before the nice church couple made it through the light.
“I hope they forgive easily,” Morris said as he cleared the hill and looked through his rearview mirror.
Really have to wonder why people who live in that hilly town would get so close behind them.
Stopping on an incline: a real "fear" point for manual-shift drivers. I've felt that fear a few times on some high bridges I could name on a New Orleans-to-Houston route.