When reviewing a car, you’re free to say whatever you like, since the cultural norm was set by Jeremy Clarkson. In fact, there’s an expectation that you’ll criticize it.
I once removed an entire hubcap from a Toyota Hilux and pretended it was the result of off-road driving, though in reality, I’d simply backed into a pillar in a parking lot. The Hilux turned out to be longer than I anticipated, so watch out for that.
Given this, I’d been doing car reviews for years without any real stress, not even when I took a Ferrari California T on the Isle of Wight ferry and the car’s internal alarm went off, thinking it was being trafficked.
But then I found myself driving a Fiat Spider on a twisty Italian road (a charming roadster built on the Mazda platform), and I’ve never felt more anxious in my life.
The issue was that I had a passenger. It was a press trip, and we were paired up, taking turns behind the wheel.
People who think of themselves as car enthusiasts, natural-born drivers, are usually referring to one thing: their ability to shift gears at exactly the right time.
Whether it’s rough or smooth, a box or a bang shift, it’s almost like jazz what matters is that you make it seem intentional.
These drivers talk about handling, torque, and such, but what they really care about is how skilled they are with a manual transmission.
No gear-changing style is ever good enough for them unless you’re also a great driver, which I am not.
They give you looks of disbelief when you’re slow or careful with the gears, and heaven forbid you wait for the car’s display to tell you when to shift why even be in a car if you don’t love the engagement and control?
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Of course, my driving partner at the time a car critic with years of experience was probably the best gear-shifter the world had ever seen. However, he didn’t have a poker face.
He grimaced like he was in physical pain every time I changed gears, which was initially too often, and later, not often enough.
My driving quality rapidly declined, and between the winding roads and my sweaty, awkward hands, I began to feel like we might both be in danger. Eventually, I handed him the wheel for the rest of the day.
So, it’s drivers like that who I sympathize with, especially after the DVLA revealed this week that 20% of driving tests are now taken in automatic cars, and only 29% of registrations last year were for manuals.
Personally, I don’t care what other people drive, but if a significant part of your identity is tied to being skilled at something that fewer and fewer people are bothering to learn, that’s bound to sting.
The logic behind switching to automatics is clear: it’s amazing how many driving lessons it takes to even be halfway decent with a clutch. Electric and plug-in hybrid cars are automatic by default.
The future of cars seems to be heading toward driverless technology, even if that’s further away than some might claim.
Car clubs may still be largely a London phenomenon (87%), but with factors like sustainability and the rising costs of living, demand for cars is likely to increase in the medium term. It’ll make sense for car fleets to go automatic if a fifth of people are learning to drive that way.
That leaves it to What Car? magazine to worry about driving becoming a “lost art,” as it did when the DVLA statistics were released.
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Its consumer editor, Claire Evans, said, “Any enthusiast will tell you that for sheer driving pleasure, manual gearboxes always win.” She’s not wrong.
The joy of driving a manual lies in the deeper connection with the car: you have to truly listen to it, with your feet, hands, and ears, and in return, the car becomes more responsive. Acceleration improves, everything feels smoother and more refined.
But it’s not just about pleasure; it’s also about taking pride in your own skill. To truly enjoy that pride, you need to see others struggle.
Driving a manual is on the verge of transitioning from an everyday skill one that everyone should master, though only some do into a niche, nostalgic hobby.
You might stumble upon someone who’s surprisingly good at it and wonder how. I’m inclined to think it’s “not the end of the world,” but then again, what do I know? I once drove all the way to the vet in first gear because my dog had fallen asleep on the gear stick.
