Go Plei! Lots of everything-working-out-ma for you in your houseness!

Housema, Plei!!

I can't drive a manual. I tried when I was 15 and learning to drive, but I didn't get very far. It seems like the kind of thing I should know how to do, but...eh. I don't.

The percentage of cars with manual transmissions is pretty low these days....

I learned how to drive on a manual '78 Volvo - the models with the cast-iron engine and steel body and no power steering. That thing was a fucking tank, but way comfy on road trips. As a result, I never had a problem with parallel parking until I had to drive Z's gigantor truck all the time - that was a bitch to park.

I drove manual until last year. I still miss the feeling of control, but my knee doesn't miss clutch combined with stop and go.

I would totally learn manual if I were going to be on TAR. And it's a skill I would like to have. But my friends with stick shifts are understandably wary of having someone ruin their car...can't imagine why...

His first step was to spend six months scouring the county for the most deserted road possible. A good thing, too -- on my first effort, I promptly drove into a ditch.

Heh. Me too! We were out in some farm roads in Illinois! OK, I didn't go all the way into the ditch, but I just didnt' grok quite HOW far you had to turn the steering wheel....after that, he gave up on the teaching me, and decided I could take lessons.

Plei, all sorts of house ~ma. Congratulations on the new place!

Manual and hand controls are non-mixy things, so I have never learned how to drive one.

What happens if you are in an emergancy? And the only thing that will safely drive you out of the burning warehouse is a manual transmission forklift?

More to the point, what if you have to drive my truck?

My father tried to teach me to drive manual transmission. There was a lot of yelling. My ex was remarkably patient in teaching me when I finally did learn. ("You're an idiot" doesn't really motivate me to learn.) He even managed to only grimace slightly when I made his 260Z make terrible noises.

Wait, Raq is in San Diego, and about to leave????

I could have driven to San Diego.

Except for the part where I've been too busy to do so, and I suspect Raq was too.

I'm getting sick of it. Something in me just wants to scream "I'm a temp, I don't know you people, I don't care if you have a happy birthday. Stop shoving obligatory well-wishes at me, I'm not part of your club!"

I think what adds to the annoyance is this faux-cloak-and-dagger way they have of handing you the card to sign. It's in a manila folder, discreetly labelled "Birthday" and inside is the card and a phone list so's you can cross your name off and take it, stealthy-like, to the next sucker on the list, mwahaha. And they always come into your cubicle looking somber with this folder so you're on edge thinking "What work are you going to give me?" and they put it down on your desk with a "sly" wink and move on.

It just bugs the shit out of me today for some reason. I just want to punch 'em in the neck.

Yeah. Not the tiniest bit sorry that I walked away from that world, never to look back again. You need to do it too, man. You need to do anything else that makes you the tiniest bit happier. Cube farms and florescent lights are killing you by degrees.

MM, good lord, you are the quickest wit in the world...

Aw, thanks, but...

a) No, I'm not.

b) If I was a top contender I think too many man-hours in an office environment has reduced my wit to a toddler-level "I pooped! Ha ha!"

c) If I were the quickest wit in the world I would have to watch out every day. Every day I'd know that someday, some time, some young whippersnapper with something to prove would come up behind me and say "All right, Miracleman...QUIP!"

And one day the snark would fail me. And I'd have to look that punk in the eye as I said, too slowly to be funny, "I pooped! Ha ha!"