Can You Drive a Manual Transmission?

CLUNK. A sharp jolt of the vehicle. The utter silence as you realize that you just stalled out. Sound familiar? It’s a rite of passage in learning how to drive a manual. For those of us who know how to drive a stick shift, we all remember the early throes of figuring it out. For me, it was additionally comical as my first time driving stick was with a 2004 VW Beetle convertible. 

It was not long after I earned my driver’s license. My experience learning to drive was devoid of any angst of an Olivia Rodrigo song, but I was missing one mystical element. I took my driver’s test in my mom’s automatic 1996 Volvo 850 sedan. Affectionately nicknamed “the Tank”, I have many fond high school memories with that car. I can remember clicking the “Sport” switch on the console which activated the fifth cylinder of the engine. It was naturally-aspirated, and I remember hearing it scream as I laid on the gas in sport mode. While a ton of fun to move that much mass (somewhat) quickly, it was missing the magic of a third pedal.

I would encounter a clutch for the first time the following summer. I was 17 at the time and still fresh in navigating roads on my own. My neighbors invited my family over for a backyard cookout. My high school friend, Brendan, and his dad were also at the cookout, and had arrived in a 1940s-era Willys Jeep. I didn’t get a chance to drive it, which was fine in my mind. I had only just learned to drive and couldn’t begin to wrap my head around navigating such an old vehicle that also had an archaic manual transmission. No, my first stick shift experience would be in the aforementioned Beetle, which belonged to our neighbors hosting the cookout.

At some point in the course of dinner, my friend asked if I had ever driven a stick before. He and I had gotten to be good friends as a result of our shared enthusiasm for all things cars. We would regularly chat about cars, even though my actual experience with them was slight in comparison to his. He had a much wider access to working on cars as he and his dad had many different vehicles in their garage, including a four-speed ‘69 Camaro. He had taken me out for a cruise in it the previous fall, so I was able to experience the brute thrill of hearing that V8 rumble through the gears. Now, he wanted me to give it a go and figure out a clutch. 

Unfortunately, the Camaro was not available as they had just begun a frame-off restoration of the car. The Willys Jeep was out, which left one option: the Beetle. My neighbors thought it was a great idea for me to try it out, and handed me the keys. I should set the scene: this Beetle was of the era that had the flower vase built into the dashboard. It was also pale yellow. I’m tall at almost 6 feet two inches, but Brendan towers over me at probably close to 6’7”. It was comical to see him pretzel himself into the passenger seat of the Beetle as I buckled into the driver’s seat. 

Brendan first had me work the clutch, in and out, before even starting the car. Next, he had me depress the clutch pedal and then start the car. Telling me to release the pedal all the way, I was startled when the car shuddered and died. He laughed at my shocked reaction, me thinking that I had somehow killed the car before even getting it out of the driveway. I soon learned that the clutch was only half of the equation: I had to apply the throttle simultaneously to get the car into gear. To follow up, he had me start the car and then let the clutch out just before it stalled to figure out the catch point. 

Feeling slightly more confident, he then had me get a feel for giving it some gas while letting out the clutch. The car only lurched the car forward slightly before stalling out again. Second time, more gas, but once again stalling out. Third time, I really laid on the gas.. My neighbors’ driveway was on a small incline, which added a further element of challenge. Once the car was moving, I wasted no effort in rocketing that little Beetle up and on to the cul-de-sac. With Brendan cackling in the passenger seat, I quickly depressed the clutch as the car rolled to a stop. With the commotion over, we spent the next stretch of the street working on smoothly getting the car to roll and stop. 

Next, he had me drive up and around our neighborhood, including a large hill. Throwing me right into the deep end, he had me try out a couple of hill starts. Given that this was an ‘04 Beetle, it didn't have the hill start assist feature that my Golf Alltrack has. It was all on me, and it was terrifying. After several herky-jerky attempts and stalls, I came around to understanding the greater amount of gas needed to combat gravity. Feeling accomplished, we then set out to the open road.

My neighborhood exits on to Route 10, which is a main throughway where cars zip by at 55+ mph. You can imagine my trepidation as I prepared to get the Beetle up to near-highway speeds. I had only gotten the car up into third gear in the neighborhood, so this would be my first venture into fourth and beyond. Once there was an opening, I creeped onto the road and prepared to get it up to speed. 

Rev up, shift, second gear. Rev, shift up, third gear. Rev, shift up, fourth gear. As I prepared to shift into fifth, Brendan threw another curveball my way. “Skip fifth and go up and over to sixth”, he said as the engine was beginning to whine for a gear shift. Unsure of the move, I went for it anyway. It was shockingly smooth and I was amazed at how it seemed to slot right into place. As Brendan would explain, just because you have six gears doesn’t mean you have to use them all. I would come to learn that fifth and sixth are overdrive gears and their primary purpose is to achieve the best gas mileage at higher speeds. 

I also learned that I didn’t need to muscle the gear shift and drop it into gear with such drama. I was channeling all of the movies I had seen where the hero rockets through the gears in a high speed chase. As regular driving doesn’t look anything like the movies, I soon realized that I could be less aggressive. It was a pale yellow Beetle convertible, after all (though it did have the peppy 2.0 liter turbo). The more I drove, the more of these pieces fell into place. The idea of driving was no longer daunting, and I was beginning to have some fun with it. That turbo engine loved to rev, and it was also my first experience with the sensation of boost. 

I felt a bit like I was in one of my Need For Speed games, and the sensory input was all the greater given that we were driving around with the top down. Feeling the rush of the wind on my face, hearing the engine pull, and watching the tach climb as I prepared for the next shift was a thrill. I had only driven my mom’s Volvo at this point, and in comparison the Beetle felt like a proper sports car. A sports car that also happened to have a flower vase just above the gear shift. 

Further adding to the comedy was the image of two teenagers in a yellow Beetle convertible. Brendan's stature meant that he was looking up and over the windshield, and he looked comically large in the Beetle. This was apparent as we pulled into a gas station in the next town over. Brendan got out to fuel up the Beetle, dwarfing the little yellow car. As he did, a teacher from our high school pulled up in the pump next to us. We had both taken a class with her, so she recognized us. She looked at the two of us, towering over the car, and, smiling, attempted to piece it all together. Explaining that I was learning to drive stick, she laughed and said how I picked a winner for my first car to learn on. 

Driving back from the gas station, I felt like a winner too. I was shifting with much less drama and I was getting smoother with the clutch as well. I smiled as the sun shone down on us, wind rustling my hair. It was a perfect summer day, and I was soaking up the fun of a convertible. I came out of my revelry to Brendan reminding me how to downshift as we approached the turn into my neighborhood. Downshifting was not quite as graceful as my upshifts, as matching the revs was a challenge. I dropped the gears down, one by one until I coasted into my street in second. Clumsily, yes, but I had not stalled it out since leaving the neighborhood. 

As we drove back into my neighbors’ driveway, I slowly came to a stop until I felt the familiar jolt of the car stalling. With a laugh, Brendan said, “well, that’s one way to turn it off!” As I would learn, I needed to depress the clutch before coming to a complete stop as it would otherwise stall. Not needing to start the car again, I pulled the handbrake and got out. As much fun as it was, I was glad to be handing the keys back over to my neighbors.

I’m grateful that they let me take the Beetle out that day, and for Brendan’s instruction.That day in the Beetle ignited further passion for driving, and I would continue to seek more moments like it. It would be years until I finally got into a manual car of my own, but I had at least driven one at last. I think that Beetle had more of an influence on me than I realized. I’m now a vested Volkswagen nut, having owned a GTI and now my Golf Alltrack. Maybe I’ll have to track down a pale yellow convertible as an homage to where it all began.