Throw It In Neutral

A little on the gas, little off the clutch. I did it. I was in second gear now. The tachometer crept past the orange illuminated three. Foot off the gas. Shift. A little on the gas now, a little off the clutch. Slowly, equal pressure. The car bucked slightly. “Equal pressure” my mom reminded me again making her two hands move up and down simultaneously in opposite directions.

I almost had it down. Driving a standard was not nearly as easy as I expected. So much concentration and skill was necessary simply not to stall the car pulling into a busy intersection.

Finally, I had made it—fourth gear, I was cruising now. I had one arm out my window. I felt like the coolest kid ever; driving a standard, wind in my hair, driving along in my big bad Honda Accord. As I peered through my aviators, I realized the road narrowed then disappeared; a downward hill. I didn’t know what to do. Grabbing the wheel steadily with both hands I made my way down the hill. My mom noticed my apprehension; she also noticed I was applying gas while going downhill.

“Shift into neutral when going downhill. There’s no point in wasting gas when you can coast,” my mother advised me. Engaging the clutch and shifting the car into neutral we glided down the hill with great ease.

“ Shift back into gear, you need a lot of pep to get up this upcoming hill,” my mom said as we finished our descent. Engage the clutch. A little on the gas, a little off the clutch. We chugged up the hill.

*******


Coming home from a party, my friend and I discussed a close friends’ quarrel. We began to talk about how battles were being fought when the seas were calm. Nobody was angry at each other, and yet the enemies started brawls for unapparent reasons.

“They were all hanging out on Monday,” my friend in the passenger’s seat began. First gear. “There was nothing wrong, then on Tuesday he decided to lie about something stupid. “Second gear. “I don’t get why they start these fights when everything is fine.” Third gear. “It doesn’t seem worth it. When there’s nothing wrong, why waste the energy fighting.” Throw it in neutral.

I conversed with my friend about this enigmatic disorder the group of friends seemingly possesses. Why waste energy fighting when there’s nothing to fight about. Why waste gas going downhill—coast. There’s no need to make waves when it’s low tide. “I don’t get their fights either,” I replied to my friend. They should save steam for the fights worth fighting.”

On our way home, my friend and I were approaching a giant hill. “Let’s see how long we can stay in neutral,” my friend said, knowing of the little game I invented. Since my mom’s advice, I had made it a sort of challenge, seeing how long I could stay in neutral. I saw no point in wasting fuel when the effort was neither necessary nor noted.
“Okay,” I replied, taking on my friends challenge. Engage clutch. Throw it in neutral.

As we glided downward, the tachometer resting contently between zero and one, we concluded our discussion. “ I see no need to pick sides,” I stated. My friend agreed. We concurred it simply wasn’t worth it. The energy was unnecessary and pointless. As we continued our descent, my friend and I discussed how the feuding friends needed to select their squabbles.

“I see their arguing as pointless. When you need the pep, use the force. But when times are easy, throw it in neutral and coast. There’s no need to waste the effort.” My friend looked at me and smiled as he glanced down to my car’s gearbox, noticing we were still riding in neutral until the approaching incline.