Three Pedal Fugue in A Major

There has been a little throw-down among the TTAC writers of late regarding the benefits of the DSG paddle shift transmission vis-à-vis the gold-standard fully synchronized five, and six-speed marvels of metallurgy, casting and machining. I have to conclude that some folks just can’t master the manual shift manipulations to the point of self-satisfaction. Well, I can’t play guitar by ear, so I like those electronic effects that help cover up my musical shortcomings. But Chet Atkins and Van Halen like straight axes. So what’s up with all the happy talk about automatics?

So neophytes can’t shift or clutch properly, but they can flick those little shifter paddles– letting the computers match all the moving parts– and feel manly and proud. Well those who have spent a lifetime distilling the purity of driveline harmonics will always enjoy more of the real essence of driving. Computerized shifts all feel and sound synthetically perfect and uniform. But a maestro working the loud pedal, clutch and shifter does more than drive; he expresses individuality and emotion. Think electronic drum machine vs. Buddy Rich.

If you don’t quite get the value of this automotive self-expression thing, let’s start with the typical launch. All that is required is a good clutch, accurate throttle and some decent hardened steel pipes. OK; feeling a little down? Go for a low-rev clutch-drop. The engine bogs down slightly until it catches and runs up to the first shift point. A longish idling pause while snatching second continues the melancholy mood. The slow second gear climb-out extends the dark, minor-chord. All who hear intuitively understand the underlying color, whether or not they realize it.

Excited? Hurried? Joyful? Then it’s a high-revving slip-clutch launch for you. Spin the clutch facings a bit, then the [hopefully rear] tires. When the traction finally locks-in at a few thousand revs, quick shift to second and upwards. You have just performed the rapidamente movement of a concerto. Light, frolicking, and gleeful. O happy day! The fortissimo roll out, on the other hand… We’re talking a hammer-down, barking and staccato assault; an unmistakable musical notation that leads the listener to expect a crescendo of speed and fury.

Then there are the shift nuances. Remember: computers don’t have emotions. Their mission is perfection in all things. But this aria is human. Are the shifts over-revving, clutch stabbing locked-down-throttle wailings? Or are they blipped, measured and even? Maybe there are uneven runs– long in second, short in third, matched in fourth and fifth—signifying indecision and doubt. You are weaving an aural story as you drive, synchronizing man and machine, reacting to the environment, mastering Mother Nature through your own unique animal nature.

Finally, the downshifts. Does a slow turn end in a boggy fade-away or a two-gear drop and run? Insight? You bet! Coming to a stop, and nothing until a second or first gear catch… a little bored maybe? Or is there a focused grouping all the way down through each gear? Even some double clutching and blipping? That’s a high energy player there. And when everything tightens up with higher and higher pitch at the end of a gearing-down halt, it’s simply voicing the angst felt at the end of speed and forward progress. But sometimes there is the sound of total surrender: the clutch-in coast-down to a full stop. Maybe you’ll feel better tomorrow.

The modern car is more than its parts. It’s an instrument. The designers and engineers create the musical score. The suspension comprises the percussion section. The aero is the woodwinds. The exhaust the brass. The engine plays the melody while you conduct. The steering wheel is your baton. The clutch and shifter set the tempo, while your throttling raises and lowers the orchestral dynamics. Hushed here, hell raising there, you throw your head back and celebrate all that is sound, vibration and movement like a true conductor.

My point is this: when you want to DRIVE, when you want to fully experience all that hurling large amounts of shaking and slamming metal and shape-shifting rubber encompasses, if you want to stand in front of the orchestra and feel it respond to your every whim, you have to take the baton and lead with your soul. Commuter cars not withstanding, when you get your Cayman S, your Corvette Z06, Stradivarius Lotus Elise, or any really drivey road rocket, if you check the automatic box on the spec sheet you are robbing yourself of the thrill of being master, commander, large and in charge. Your Song will not Remain the Same (apologies to Led Zeppelin).

So suffer a bad shift. Kill the motor (preferably at a busy intersection). Miss a gear. Hit the limiter. Laugh at your foibles. Have fun. Modern love is not automatic.