A while back I asked Alan if he would take me to a parking lot somewhere and let me step behind the wheel of his year-and-half old Camaro.
For one reason and another, usually that I was busy, we didn't get it done until today.
I grew up in the muscle car era...took my road test on a Pontiac Firebird, routinely drove a '69 Chevelle, and have driven all sorts of other cars and trucks.
And I can drive a standard. In fact my first car was a bright orange Chevy, 3-on-the-tree 1/2 ton pickup. I even had another old Chevy that had been converted...by utterly incompetent kids...from an automatic to a standard. That one would only start on hills, and had flat tires every day. So I rotated my tires, myself, every day, and knew the location of every hill in three counties. (Normal tire rotation does include getting the one that isn't flat out of the trunk and putting on the car, right?)
However, I admit I was really nervous about driving his six-speed beast, even in a parking lot.
I did it though.
Didn't stall it a single time.
Didn't get out of second gear either, but with more room I could have.
The sweetest car I ever drove. So smooth, so nimble, so much more power than anyone could possibly need. It's probably a good thing that I never owned a car like that.