Facts & Arguments is a daily personal piece submitted by readers. Have a story to tell? See our guidelines at tgam.ca/essayguide.
At the start of last summer, my parents decided to sell our minivan and buy a Dodge Dart. I don't know what compelled them to make this choice, but for some reason they thought it was "necessary" to purchase a smaller vehicle.
This decision affected me greatly because the new car had a manual transmission and at the time I only knew how to drive automatic.
Don't get me wrong, the car was a lot nicer than our 2003 Grand Caravan, but this summer was supposed to be amazing, seeing as it was my first summer with my G2 driver's licence. In Ontario, having a G2 means you are able to drive without the supervision of an adult.
But now, instead of starting my summer driving all over Toronto with my friends, I would now have to spend many hours just learning how to drive "stick" with my mom or dad on the side streets of our neighbourhood.
The problem with driving stick, which I painfully learned, is that if you don't shift gears correctly the car will stall. This means it stops. It completely shuts down and you have to turn the ignition off and back on to get it running again.
At first I didn't think much about this technical detail – until I started driving on main roads. It was all going great until I had to turn left to get home. I stalled in the middle of the intersection while the light was turning red, causing traffic from both directions to come to a standstill. Everyone started honking their horns and I had to get out and switch seats with my sister because I was unable to get the car in gear.
After the left-hand turn incident it took me a while to gain my confidence back, but I eventually was able to drive manual and I loved it. After the long hours I'd spent learning to drive the car, it felt even better to drive it around on my own. I felt a new-found sense of maturity and pride that I really enjoyed. I would drive everywhere, even when I probably didn't need to.
So, naturally, when my mom asked me to pick up some groceries from the local store I decided to drive instead of walk.
The store's parking lot was not very big and there was only one open spot by the time I got there. While turning into the space, I somehow grazed the car beside me. When I got out to check the damage, a bystander ran up to me. She yelled at me and told me that if I did not contact the owner of the car I had scratched, she would tell her husband, who was "a cop."
Shocked and at a loss for words, I managed to get back into my car and find a piece of paper and a pen to write my phone number on and put it on the damaged car's window. I then quickly scrambled back into the car and drove away with the "cop's wife" taking a photograph of me on my way out.
I was really shaken up when I got home. I knew my parents were going to be upset because not only had I managed to scratch our own new car, I'd also damaged another person's car. I would eventually have to pay for that.
When the owner finally called me she was very aggressive. She told me angrily that she couldn't believe I had hit her car. I was stunned because I obviously hadn't hit her car on purpose, but she didn't seem to care. She kept on interrogating me until I finally said it would probably be better if she called back and talked to my parents.
When it was all settled, the total repairs were around $2,000. It wasn't so much the money that bothered me, though; it was more the way I was treated by the two people. They both did not give me the benefit of the doubt, the cop's wife believing I would not pay up and the owner of the car thinking I hit her car on purpose.
That's when it hit me: I was not used to being treated in such a manner because I wasn't used to being treated like a grown man. Most people are nice to kids because they are young, but that goodwill disappears in the adult world and people can be really rude – especially to young men due to preconceived notions that we are disrespectful and aggressive.
In the end, I can't change how the two people treated me, but the damage was my fault and I have to take responsibility for my actions. As I get older I am going to get many new privileges, but they will also come with more responsibility.
Who knew that over the course of learning to drive one little stick-shift car I would have learned three important life lessons? I was taught that through perseverance can come great enjoyment, I learned how to accept responsibility and I realized the importance of giving other people the benefit of the doubt.
Who knows? Maybe this was the whole reason my parents insisted so much on getting a new car.
Simon Miller lives in Toronto.