I was 14 when I was no longer able to deflect my dad’s insistence that I learn how to drive. Even mother’s doomsday predictions regarding my fate if I drove in the pothole strewn dirt roads of Dar-Es Salaam did little to dissuade dad from tossing me the car keys one fine Saturday morning and gently but firmly shoving me out the front door and toward the white Peugeot 505 estate that was our mode of transport.
Sitting behind the dark blue plastic wheel, and with dad in the front passenger seat to my left, I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned the key in the ignition, my right foot gently pressing the accelerator. As the engine roared to life, I felt a steady vibration climb up my arms and into my body. I buzzed at the same frequency as the massive car, and my stressed expression faded as a smile took over.
It felt good.
Over the next hour or so, and later in subsequent lessons, dad thought me that that engine buzz was also the car’s way of communicating with me, the driver. This was 1988, and cars were very much mechanical entities. We were still a long way from engine computers, traction control, electrically assisted and fly by wire steering, DSG transmissions with pedal shifters, and all the other electric and electronic drivers’ aids that are virtually commonplace in cars these days. Heck, back then, most cars didn’t even have rev counters!
And that was where that engine buzz came in. It told the driver about the health of the engine and its components. It changed from idle to highway speeds, letting the driver know if the spark plugs were misfiring, if it was time to shift up or down, if the carburetor needed adjustment, so on and so forth.
The steering wheel itself also spoke to the driver; whether or not the front end needed alignment, which wheel was out of balance (is that still a thing, balancing the wheels?), which tire was worn out and needed replacing, the state of the CV joints keeping the front wheels attached to the car… Every single driver control, every pedal, every sound from a car meant something to the driver, and made him or her a better driver as a result.
Alas, gentle reader, those days have gone the way of the dodo.
Nowadays, a central computer unit monitors and controls all aspects of the car engine’s operations, traction control keeps even the worst drivers out of the ditch, LED lights and brightly lit tachometers tell the driver the best time to shift, and computerized automatic transmissions allow for smooth, almost instantaneous shifts, all without the need for the drivers’ skilled left leg. All a driver has to do these days is steer the electrically assisted steering wheel. In many cars, they don’t even have to do that much! Cameras and GPS keep the car in lane, and a safe distance from the car in front.
Worst of all, in a lot of cars, steering wheels aren’t even physically connected to the front wheels!
For Pete’s sake!!!
All this of course has a lot to do with the advent of the electric car, itself necessitated by climate change and the immediate need to embrace an alternative to fossil fuels to feed our transportation needs. After all, electric cars don’t buzz or roar, they have no gearboxes, and include the bare minimum of mechanical parts. These days, if you want to ‘feel’ like a driver, you have to race. Especially off road. You’ll feel everything off road. Oh yeah.
I’m going to miss driving. I mean driving like I used to, like most people used to. I’m going to miss feeling like I am in control of a mass of machinery, of gears, springs, pistons; mechanical parts I could repair easily or at not much costs by a mechanic. I’m especially going to miss looking under the bonnet of my car and seeing an engine, and not feeling like a complete idiot.
It’s a sign of the times, I suppose. Technology moves on and drags us along with it. And for the most part, I’m okay with this. But I promise you, here and now, that I will resist technology taking away the one thing I used to love to do, that I enjoyed doing, even if it was just going to the grocery store and back. Even with my useless right leg eliminating the likelihood of me ever driving a stick shift again, I will resist these bland, numb, impassive ‘cars’.
I’m not done feeling yet.