It’s been written that a manual gearbox provides a fourth control ‘surface’ along with steering, braking and acceleration. Not sure that I can go along with this one. I think a manual dilutes the joy of the other three because these days, automatics do it so much better. Meaning that you can enjoy the other three so much more.
Manuals tend to be popular because they’re cheaper and people like to believe that they have more control. “Not the way you drive it”, I often catch myself thinking.
The irony is that it’s often the elderly who resist the idea of an automatic. They hang on to manuals as if their values and fond memories would be eroded if they didn’t. I’ve said it before and it’s worth repeating that I believe that these folk should be forced to drive an automatic unless they can pass a “stick test”. This way, they’re likely to see more active years behind the wheel by avoiding the judgmental eye of the authorities to their frequent traffic iniquities.
My dearly departed mother’s “Singer sewing machine” Renault 9, for instance, had covered but 43 000 km at the time of her death but was onto its third clutch. Across the road from my sister in George lives a woman fast approaching 80, widow for some time now. She has a four-year old Hyundai i10. Or is that an Atoz? Let’s just call it a runt. This car has covered but 5 000 km. In real wear terms it’s multiples of that, I think. A manual by name only, she turns it into a quasi variomatic system, with all of the burnt-crushed-stinkbug-clutch-stench this implies. One day the thrust bearing will join the fray and bring with it revs bouncing off the limiter without the accompaniment of discernable momentum gains. Which would be fine, it’s her business (and her pocket), but for the not so small matter of her being an absolute danger to others. She visits a friend in Wilderness frequently, which trip takes in a notoriously dangerous mountain pass. Just how does she manage that? More to the point, how do other motorists manage her managing that?
“Why not an automatic?”, I implore. “No,” I’m told, “he wouldn’t want that if he were here”. Ah yes, reason is as reason does.
Let me say up front that I’m not talking about the DSG and like systems. I will openly admit that paddles and my two left hands aren’t good pals. You can usually find me stabbing or wrenching at the wrong one. And so they irritate me in the vein of a workman blaming his tools. Furthermore, do gear-changes measured in “parts per multi milliseconds” take the argument to the masses, or only to the few figure-traders in the pub? No, what I’m on about is the classic “drop it into drive and forget about it” torque converter systems. Which these days click through the steps almost imperceptibly. And serve up such a number of well-graded ratios (Lexus has eight so far, I believe) as to leave the driver guessing as to which is on duty. Is that a problem? Surely not. Especially as you can bet on it that the appropriate cog for the circumstances is likely to be your companion of the moment, and that includes engine braking. Recently ZF has announced a 9-speed (torque-convertor ) auto aimed at front-drivers generally. What more do you want? And I’ll wager that such a box will give better fuel efficiency and lend better car control.
Yes, yes, for the diehard drivers out there, a meaty manual with a full-bodied clutch is appealing. But only when it’s attached to a similarly meaty car. Itself attached to a driving-dedicated human. Who must be in the mood. I truly believe that an autobox should be standard, the manual the more expensive option. Cost ratio reversed through economies of scale, perhaps? That should make things safer for your fifth gear over-taker, from 1500 r/min, in a 1600, against a slope, who will find his/her lazy style complimented by something that will do the job way better.
Let’s give the car the task of moving itself to the tune of a pedal operated by the flesh and blood human at the wheel. Let’s embrace some of the grind removed and the joy rekindled this way. Let’s hear it for progress, the ZF 9-speeder.