Technology aside, stick shifts have some advantages

This post was first published in the April 20, 2019, edition of the Wilson Times.

            Last month, the New York Times published an article suggesting that maybe the newest technology isn’t in the best interest of motorists. Self-driving cars have been involved in serious accidents that an attentive human driver could have easily avoided. Self-driving isn’t the only problem. Modern technology creates many distractions for drivers, and cell phones are not the only culprit.

Adding music from a radio, a tape deck, a CD player, a Bluetooth connection with your iPod or streaming services all distract the driver from his/her primary task, which is avoiding an accident while driving at 60 or 70 mph. Small distractions can be deadly. By my calculations, when you’re driving 70 mph on a highway, you’re traveling 103 feet per second. How long does it take to glance at your phone or change radio stations? Three seconds? You just traveled the length of a football field. I hope nobody was in your way.

Maybe it’s time, the NYT writer suggested, to get back to standard transmissions. Now you’re talking.

            I drove stick-shift cars almost exclusively for 16 years and taught my children how to drive a stick. At one point, we owned three vehicles, all with stick shifts. The stick shift has several advantages over automatics, which have become standard over the past 60 years. You can’t hold a cell phone or apply makeup while driving a stick. And a stick shift makes your car far less likely to be stolen. There have been numerous reports of attempted carjackings (including one in Wilson around 20 years ago) that were foiled when the carjacker realized he couldn’t drive a car with a manual transmission. Car thieves appear to be too uncoordinated to drive a stick, or maybe it’s the difficulty of shifting gears while holding a gun that thwarts them. At any rate, your car is far less likely to be stolen if it has a clutch pedal.

            The greatest disadvantage to driving a stick shift happens when you’re stuck in traffic. In a two-hour backup like the one I was involved in on I-95 recently, you can wear out your left knee in no time, shifting from neutral to first gear, to neutral, to first gear, ad infinitum as traffic creeps along. My leg aches just thinking about it. There is also the disadvantage of starting on a hill, which requires coordinating left and right feet to find the friction point and just the right amount of gas so you don’t stall or make the engine roar.

            Those small disadvantages didn’t bother me in the 14 years I drove a sporty, nimble little two-seat roadster. When I decided I needed to replace the car, which had developed several age-related problems, I looked for another stick shift, and I found out how rare manual transmissions had become. A friend in the new car business said his dealership used to get about 40 percent manual transmission vehicles, but that had plummeted to 8 percent and now is even lower. Even “performance” cars such as Corvettes, Porsches or Miatas have gone to automatics, so I settled on a used six-speed coupe that didn’t have a removable roof or the agility of my smaller roadster.

            I’m currently driving a small sedan with an automatic transmission, Bluetooth and other technology I craved. Since I usually keep a car for more than a decade, I was concerned that my left knee might not hold up to the clutch-engaging stress in my eighth decade.

            I find myself like most car owners, driving a car that is comfortable, well-equipped, smarter than I am in many ways, equipped with all sorts of warning devices, including a rear-view camera, a vehicle that requires little activity from me and offers many distractions.  While I yearn for the fun of that long-lost roadster, I worry about getting too comfortable in my car. There are a lot of distracted drivers out there, and I don’t want to join them.

Hal Tarleton is a former editor of The Wilson Daily Times. Contact him at haltarleton@myglnc.com.

           

Four-wheel objects of desire

When I first heard that the N.C. Museum of Art was hosting a Porsche exhibit, I knew I wanted to go. I had to lusted after Porsches for years, admired them from afar, dreamed of what it would be like to drive one, but never got my hands on one.

Now I've been to the exhibit and have seen the remarkable collection of beautiful automobiles from the 1930s to today. Of course, I still haven't gotten my hands on one — touching the exhibits is not allowed at museums. And I haven't satiated my desire for a Porsche. If anything, it the desire has grown.

 Racers like this one dominate the exhibit.

Ferdinand Porsche designed beautiful cars with advanced aerodynamic styling and compact engines with exceptional power. The Museum of Art exhibit makes all that clear, and the show is a great attraction well worth the time to walk through the array of vehicles. If I had a disappointment about the show, it was that the exhibit concentrated on race cars rather than production cars that you or I could (theoretically, at least) buy and drive. There are "famous" cars, like Steve McQueen's 356 Speedster, and the original Porsche design, which had to be hand-made. There was also the 2014 Porsche Carrera that the museum is raffling off — just $100 per ticket. Since I couldn't afford the taxes if I won, I didn't bother.

                                    That is Steve McQueen's 356 Speedster (below).

 The 914 gets no respect in the museum show.

I was also a bit surprised that there was no mention in the exhibit of the Porsche 914, a model that I once thought I might be able to afford. It was the "baby Porsche" with a small engine and cheaper production from the 1970s that attempted to make the Porsche name affordable. I suspect that the omission was deliberate in an exhibit titled "Porsche By Design," the boxy 914 didn't quite fit in with the swooping aerodynamic designs of the 356, 911, 904 and others. Ultimately, this was an art exhibit, a design exhibit, not a car show.

This Carrera is being raffled off.

 
It's still worth your time. Go here for details.

I'll never sit here again

After nearly a full month of online advertising plus a week of newspaper classified advertising (all for one price), my 16-year-old Honda del Sol was sold today. Considering I received 95 percent of the somewhat aggressive asking price, I should be overjoyed. But as the skies cleared this afternoon after two days of steady rain, I felt myself missing that little car that had given me the most fun I ever had on four wheels. I was ready to take the top off and let the remnants of my hair whip in the breeze. I was ready to stomp the accelerator as I shifted to second and feel the four-cylinder engine oomph the lightweight two-seater up to speed. I was ready to take a corner using 100 degrees of arc instead of 90 and let the rear end glide into place. I wanted to feel all those things, and more, again, but I wouldn't and couldn't.

I sold the car to a young man who was probably in preschool when the car was built. He was young enough to enjoy it and to put up with its shortcomings — a chronically leaky trunk and an air conditioner that labored to keep up with the heat generated by the black sheet metal and black interior. And he won't mind that newer cars have nicer appointments, such as keyless entry, cup holders and ambient lighting. If he takes care of the car, it should give him several more years of driving fun.

Each day I drive my "less old" car (it's not "new") I bought six weeks ago, I like it better. It doesn't do the same things the del Sol did, but it does other things the del Sol never would. After shopping for a car of my dreams, one that would combine the del Sol's fun with a larger vehicle's security and more luxurious appointments, I concluded that such a car didn't exist, at least not in my price range. So I settled on a 2003 Honda Accord coupe with a six-speed transmission and 120,000 miles on the odometer. The six-speed lacks some of the "fun" element of the older car's five-speed, but it is fun to shift and has amazingly economical higher gears. A nice stereo, keyless entry, leather seating, an aesthetic body shape, more than 100 extra horsepower than what I was accustomed to — those are all things I could get used to. And while no car feels very safe to me in interstate highway traffic, the Accord is far heavier and less likely to be whipped about by passing trucks. The wind and road noise that I tolerated in the small car are almost entirely missing in the newer car.

Before I sold the del Sol, I received inquiries from as far away as Georgia and New York. People who are familiar with these cars love them, despite all their shortcomings. Fourteen years ago, when I debated and worried over whether I should plunk down more than I had planned to spend on a two-year-old pop-top two-seater, my wife persuaded me by saying, "If you don't buy it now, next time [you trade cars], you'll be too old." As usual, she was right. I got 14 years of fun (and a few headaches) while I was still young enough to enjoy it.

What's it worth?

Basic economics says the cost of any item is whatever a willing buyer is willing to pay a willing seller. That being the case, what is the car I've driven for 14 years worth? Is it determined by the 145,000 miles on the odometer or the air bag module that no longer works? Or is determined by the care I've given the car these many years or by the joys it has provided on twisty mountain roads?

All of the above. I've resigned myself to the fact that I will put the car on the market, and I'll seek a fair price for it. But I will also miss it terribly when the sun is bright and warm in the blue sky and the road ahead turns sharply and climbs or falls away.

One American's love affair with cars

My problem is, I keep cars too long and get too attached to them.

Take the 1971 Toyota Corona my wife and I bought to replace the Chevy II that had gotten me through three years of college. I kept the Toyota for 16 years. It brought my oldest child home from the hospital. I carpooled in it into Washington, D.C., for three years. It took us on many a long and exhausting trip between D.C. and North Carolina. Before I got rid of it, my daughter, the one who rode home from the hospital in it, drove it (legally) after getting her learner's permit. When I traded it in with 120-some-thousand miles on it, it had a rusting dent in the front fender, some missing rubber molding around the door and its fourth water pump. I still hated to let it go. It had hauled too many memories over too many years.

My latest dilemma involves a 1994 Honda del Sol, which I've driven for 14 years. I had persuaded myself that it was it was time to replace the car. After the module that controls the air bags died (a little $735 computer chip), my wife no longer wanted to ride with me. And there was the little problem with what sailors call watertight integrity. The Targa-roof roadster had always been prone to a little leaking around the windows, but recently it had begun leaking in the trunk too, and the entire car had developed a musty aroma. It really was time to pass it on to someone else who might be willing to fix the flaws. I looked around for a while, uncertain what kind of car I wanted — another fun-to-drive roadster? A practical sedan? Something in between, such as a coupe with a manual transmission? I finally settled on the third option and found a well-cared-for but aging Honda Accord coupe that fit the criteria.

Now it's time to find a new owner for the del Sol. After cleaning out the car and driving it to work on a warm, sunny day, I found myself falling in love with it all over again. Its nimble handling and five-speed transmission made every corner an adventure, and I recalled the several times I got the car on twisty mountain roads, its top removed and open to the sky as autumn leaves whirled in the breeze stirred by the little black car's acceleration as I worked the shifter between second and fourth gears and punched the accelerator for all the speed the little engine could muster. It's the most fun I'm likely to have in a car. The newer coupe that was meant to replace the del Sol does not have the same gear ratios. Its six gears are more tightly spaced and geared more for economy than for acceleration, and its open moon roof does not give the same airy feeling as the removable roof in the older car.

So here I am with an extra car in the driveway, an extra expense on my auto insurance and a reluctance to turn loose of a car that has given me great enjoyment (and relatively few problems) for 14 years. When I was debating whether to buy the del Sol in 1996, my wife put an end to my indecision by telling me frankly, "If you don't buy it now, the next time you buy a car, you'll be too old." She was right. Now I just have to convince myself that I'm too old for it.

Cash for Clunkers, Rest in Peace

The cash-for-clunkers program is coming to an end after a $3 billion outlay of taxpayer funds for several hundred thousand vehicles that were in running condition but burned more gas than Congress thought vehicles should. The program has been proclaimed in Washington as a huge success, so huge that Congress tripled the initial outlay for the program.

The program allowed anyone with a working, insured vehicle of a certain age and getting 15 miles per gallon or less to trade it in for a new vehicle getting at least 4 mpg better mileage than the trade-in. Uncle Sam would subsidize the trade-in at a rate of up to $4,500 (if the new car got 10 mpg more than the old one). For drivers of older-model SUVs and other gas guzzlers, it sounds like a good deal. A 10-year-old gas guzzler will probably never again command $4,500 at trade-in.

But there are also long-term costs. The buyer will need to pay for the new vehicle. Let's assume the new car costs $20,000. With your inflated-value trade-in you'll still owe $15,500. If you pay that back over five years (not unusual for car loans these days) at 6 percent interest, you'll be making payments of nearly $300 a month. Over the term of the loan, you'll pay $18,000 for that vehicle, plus the $4,500 from Uncle Sam, and pay a total of $2,500 in interest. If you cut the term to three years, you'll save about $1,000 in interest, but your payments will be much higher.

But aren't you saving on gasoline? Yes. At the current cost of gasoline (about $2.50 a gallon), you'll save $800 a year, if your trade-in got 15 mpg and your new car gets 25 mpg. If gasoline goes to $4 before your loan is paid off, you'll save $12,800 a year. That will get you three or four monthly payments on your loan. Your bottom line will be an expense of $14,000 ($18,000 in payments minus $4,000 in gasoline savings). You'll need to keep the vehicle four more years (until it's 9 years old) to get a positive return on investment when your savings on gasoline exceeds your outlay for the purchase.

Advocates of the program point to recall of GM workers to fill orders for new cars as a positive result of Cash for Clunkers. That's good, but it might be only a temporary reprieve for the auto industry. It's likely that Cash for Clunkers increased current demand by attracting buyers who would have ordered cars next year or the year after. If we see a sales dip in the next couple of years, it might be because thousands of buyers are paying off their "clunkers" loans. The retirement of older gas-guzzlers will pollute the planet less and reduce dependence on foreign oil, advocates say. That's true, but the impact will be minuscule in the big picture.

I have been unable to take advantage of the clunkers program. My 15-year-old car is old enough to be a clunker, but it still runs well and gets over 30 mpg on the highway. And then there's the issue of making those monthly payments — or even getting a loan when you're unemployed.

Clunkers for Cash too slow on the draw

I guess I've just missed out on another get-rich-quick scheme, and I'm not talking about PowerBall. News media are reporting today that the government's "Cash for Clunkers" program has already run out of money.

That's bad news for entrepreneurs like me, who saw an opportunity in the federal CARS (Car Allowance Rebate System) program, which offered up to $4,500 trade-in allowances to buyers who ponied up an old, gasoline-hungry vehicle to buy a new vehicle that gets at least 10 mpg better mileage. For creative entrepreneurs, this was a golden opportunity. I was ready to launch my Clunkers for Cash program and rake in some serious dough.

You see, all that federal money jump-started the value of old cars. I figured I'd buy as many old cars as I could find, vehicles that might be worth, say $800, and sell them to people who wanted to buy new cars and get the federal rebate for, let's say, $1,800. The new owner would drag the clunker to a participating dealer and collect his $4,500 and drive away with a new car and $2,700. I'd be satisfied with my $1,000 finder's fee on each transaction. If I could do five or 10 deals a week, I'd be sitting pretty, and a lot of jalopies would be in a better place.

Unfortunately, the feds have shut down the program before I could get rich quick, but I'm sure somebody made some money in this deal.

Your car makes a statement about you

Answer this quiz: Is the car you drive (a) A means of getting from point A to point B; or (b) A statement about who you are?

For too many people, and for a variety of reasons, the honest answer is (b). For some people, a shiny new car connotes a certain classy prestige. It is a statement about one's wealth and status. For others, a hybrid vehicle identifies them as people concerned about the fate of the earth and determined preserve natural resources. Still others drive gargantuan vans or SUVs that identify them as parents of several children who must be shuttled from place to place. Some people (OK, men) drive beefy, heavy pickup trucks that make a statement about their manliness and hardy blue-collar status (even if they have white-collar jobs).

For the past 13 years, I have been driving a nimble, two-seater with a manual transmission and a removable top. Its statement, I suppose, was that I was a sporty guy, or perhaps a man dealing with a mid-life crisis. But for me, it was simply a fun car to drive, as well as a practical one. Why drive around with four empty seats you don't need? And its gas mileage could nearly compete with hybrids. When I hemmed and hawed over whether to buy the car in 1996, my wife made the killer argument for the purchase: "If you don't buy it now," she said, "the next time you'll be too old." So I bought it, and I've had few regrets. Several times, I've been able to wind it out (insofar as its 86 horsepower engine would wind) on twisty mountain roads, working the clutch and shift lever as often as I worked the steering wheel.

That 15-year-old car, which I've driven more than 100,000 miles (it has 141,000 miles on the odometer), is in the shop this week, getting some body work repaired, and I've been driving a rental car the past couple of days. The rental, a Nissan Sentra, is a basic vehicle: automatic transmission, cloth seats and air conditioning. Not exciting, but quite practical. It gets me from point A to point B reliably and in some comfort. Its strong air conditioner is a delight compared to the effete AC in my Del Sol, whose black exterior and black interior soak up the summer heat like a heat sink.

This experience has made me rethink my intentions about my "next" car, if I ever get around to trading the Del Sol. (Gotta find a job first.) I had thought I'd look for another sporty car with a stick shift, another car that would be fun to drive, and, as a bonus, less likely to be stolen (car thieves don't drive stick shifts). But this week's rental has reminded me how pleasant an undemanding family car can be. Before buying the Del Sol, I drove a Plymouth K-Car for nine years and loved it. It was generally reliable, comfortable, and capable of seating up to six people. It got me from point A to point B. If the air conditioning had not died, I would have driven it several more years.

With my Honda getting its dents repaired, maybe I'll drive it indefinitely, despite its occasional leaks, its well-worn interior, its laggard air conditioning and its air bags that no longer work (they need a $750 replacement module). Driving it is still fun, especially if I can get it to the mountains.

I've even suggested that my heirs might save money by using the car as my casket when the time comes.