pedal.
“Do you understand how a car engine works?”
“Yes and no,” replied Nina, who was nervously sitting in the driver’s seat. “You press the pedals and the wheels go around.”
Moltres sighed. “The power of the engine is transferred to the wheels through the transmission. In order to change gear without tearing apart the transmission, the clutch momentarily disengages it. “
“Fascinating,” said Nina. Nervousness was making her mean.
Moltres ignored her. “Turn on the car.”
She did so.
“There are three pedals underneath your feet: clutch on the left, brake in the middle, accelerator on the right. In order to move in a nonautomatic, you increase the power to the transmission while slowly releasing the clutch to engage the wheels. Get it?”
Nina nodded, not getting it at all.
“As you slowly release the clutch while at the same time pressing on the gas pedal, there comes a point where the car moves, slightly. It’s called the biting point, and we’re going to practice it now.”
Nina looked at him and raised her eyebrows.
“Increase the gas too quickly and you flood the engine and stall the car. Let’s go.”
She did as he told her, and flooded the engine.
They waited in silence for a moment. Then Moltres said, “So, what do you do for work?”
Nina had put her head down on the steering wheel. “I work in a bookstore.”
“Yeah?” said Moltres, interested. “I love reading. I’m a mystery buff.”
“You are?” Nina wasn’t sure why she sounded surprised. Mystery readers were everywhere, voracious, highly partisan, and passionate. They were among the store’s best customers, and unfailingly polite. In private they embraced a bloodthirsty desire for vengeance and the use of arcane poisons and sneaky sleuthing, but in public they were charming and generous. Romance readers tended to be fun and have strong opinions. Nonfiction readers asked a lot of questions and were easily amused. It was the serious novel folks and poetry fans you had to watch out for.
Moltres nodded. “Yeah, since I was a kid. They’re modern fairy tales, right? Good always triumphs over evil.”
“Mostly. There are exceptions.”
“Sure, but I’m old fashioned. I don’t love the newer, edgier, meaner ones, anyway. Your dad and I used to talk about books when we weren’t talking about cars.”
“Really?” Why was her voice so squeaky?
“Yeah. His favorite thing to do was drive up the coast and find some deserted beach where he could sit and read in peace.” He looked at her, patiently. “Now try the car again.”
Nina turned the key in the ignition. She went very slowly, and sure enough, there was a moment when she felt the car move under her. She kept working the pedals, and suddenly they moved forward, whereupon she immediately hit the brake without disengaging the clutch and stalled the car again.
“Dammit. This is hard.”
Moltres nodded. “You can see why the automatic gearbox took off.”
“Why would anyone choose to drive stick?”
“It’s more fun,” he answered. “You have to concentrate more, pay more attention. You have to work with the engine. Easier isn’t always better.”
Nina turned the key again, and this time when the car moved she controlled herself and managed to drive forward without incident. “Now, how do I change gears?”
Moltres’s voice was calm. “You do the same thing again. Put pressure on the gas until you hear the engine is ready to change up.”
“I don’t hear it.” Nina’s voice was less calm.
“Stop the car,” Moltres said. “Let’s try something else. Don’t forget to disengage the clutch when you brake.”
Nina managed to stop the car without stalling, and put it in park.
“Let’s swap places,” Moltres said. He went around the front, Nina went around the back, and then they were looking at each other from the other direction.
Moltres said, “I need you to focus. I’m going to talk you through what I’m doing, and you’re going to learn how it sounds.” Nina nodded. “Listen, I’m putting it in gear, the clutch is off, I’m adding gas”—the engine note changed—“and now it’s in gear and we’re moving. More gas, more speed, and can you hear that the engine is starting to work too hard?”
Nina could, kind of. “It sounds too loud. Is that what you mean?”
“If that’s all you’ve got, go with that. Anyway, here I go, disengaging the clutch, changing the gear, reengaging the clutch, second gear.”
The engine sounded happier. They sped up again, making swoops across the parking lot. “And now again, second to third. Clutch out, change gear, clutch in, third gear.”
Two hours later Nina cracked it.
Three hours later Moltres handed her the keys,