Fifth Gear

Mannie was not surprised that her father had her on the steepest hill in the city. He thought every kid deserved a good challenge, maybe even an all out dose of fear.

"Why didn't you just take me to San Francisco to learn?" They sat in the car with their backs pressed against the seats; Mannie could feel her heart beating through her back. Her hips were snug in the crevice of the seat and her left foot stretched to a tip-toe on the clutch because her father had failed to tell her that she didn't need it there when the car was in neutral. She was barefoot. Her father had taught all her brothers barefoot. He said it would give a better feel for what was going on down there. Her brothers were all naturals at it, he had said. Her foot was shaking.

"Now, the first thing to know on a hill of this sort is to balance the clutch and the gas," he said as his hands took on the actions of her feet. Her own hand played with the gearshift, jiggling it back and forth in neutral.

"Are you listening to me, Mannie?" His hands were now on the dashboard. "You're never gonna learn this if you don't listen. I swear, you kids." His voice sunk under his breath.

"I'm listening, dad. Balance." She rolled her eyes after she was sure he had gone back to his hand motions. She would have gotten her license two years ago, but her father had never gotten around to teaching her.

"Now, all the clutch does is it disengages the engine, you got that? This means that the only way you're going to go anywhere is if you first bring the clutch to the point of disengagement and then step on the gas at that precise moment. Now let's see if we can't get you up this little hill here." That was as much humor as her father offered.

He put the car in first for her, knocking her hand aside.

"Take your foot off the clutch slightly, not to much now you hear?" He leaned over to get a better look at her feet.

As she lifted her foot off the pedal the car rumbled and shook unsteadily then she pressed back down out of confusion.

"You hear that, Mannie? That's it. That's where it's disengaging. Now I'm gonna put the parking brake down and I want you to get your right foot over the gas. You ready?" No. Her heart was going crazy and she wanted so much for another minute. She heard the crack from the emergency brake and in an instant the car rolled about five feet backwards. Three pedals and she couldn't figure out which to press so she let off with her left and before she could even get her toe on the gas the car shut off, still rolling.

"The brake Mannie. Hit the brake." Her father grasped the dashboard and turned to look behind them. The moment her foot found it, he yanked up on the parking brake. Her heart stopped with the car, but began even faster as she cowered in the seat.

"Dammit, Mannie. You can't let off the clutch when you're in gear and you don't have your foot on the gas. We just want to balance, dammit. It's not that difficult." He smoothed his cowlick over his head as if to say that she had gotten him out of sorts, disheveled from the excitement.

"Can't we go to a driveway or something?" She hated how her bare feet felt against the pedals. She could feel the dried dirt weaseling in between her toes and the ribbing on the pedals was anything but natural. Resting her feet on the floor mat was not much better. There were rocks and leaves and even bigger pieces of dried dirt down there. She wanted to cry, but that's not how she got anything from him. "We'll just try again, now look at my hands Mannie. Are you looking?" he said as he turned to put them towards the passenger window, as if this change of view might help her see it clearer.

"We'll keep it in neutral. Now do it with your feet. Let me see what you're gonna do with your feet." He put his hand on the back of her chair and watched her feet. She had hoped they weren't shaking too much anymore. She spread her legs to the pedals. Too much gas and the engine revved. Too scared to take her foot off the clutch and he gave her disappointed look. Her feet teetered back and forth on them until he gave his approval.

"Okay, now, here we go. We're gonna try this again." She wanted to tell him that no, we weren't going to try this again; she was going to try this again. Why did he always have to be in the equation?

Again, the crack of the emergency brake. Three pedals and she stuck with the clutch. Rolling back he pointed at the gas. "You don't drive backwards dammit. Use the gas," he shouted and

pointed, shuffling his own feet beneath him.

She kept her foot on the clutch. Rolling back was okay, but she was not going to stall. She shifted her bare foot over the gas and slowly pushed in. She let off the clutch just a little and the car stopped rolling. She had made the car stop rolling. She must have just wanted to dazzle him by driving off as if she, too was a natural for this, so her foot went hard on the gas. The car sounds were not familiar and her foot shook on the gas. The car screeched and jerked. The car was heaving. The force of her father's body being jostled in the front seat only made the car rock even more. The corner of her eye revealed a fifty-year old man's body out of control. This must be what he looks like before he throws up, she thought and laughed at what she had thought until the car stalled.

"Dammit, Mannie. You're trying to test me aren't you." He had not yet let go of his tight grip on the armrest. "Get out of the car, dammit. We'll try this some other day."

Smile Pretty and Watch Your Back

Mannie got out of the car. As she walked towards the bar the conversations grew louder. She stopped momentarily to admire a 1980 Harley. A King of the Highway, she thought to herself. Her jeans were so tight, her walk felt strange. Going in the bar, she felt men's gazes all around her and tried not to notice. A comment or two stood out from the crowd, but she kept walking. The conversations hadn't completely stopped, but she assumed they had changed subjects.

The bar was further in the back and to her right. She got a beer and a handful of quarters. The tables were standard with slants and quirks that only the patrons would know. Green felt and pretty marked up. Setting her beer down, she examined the cues, pulling each one off the rack, putting the end at her eye and staring down its length like it was a rifle. She bounced the sticks through her hand, hoping to find a straight 21. She found a 21 and rolled it on a nearby table. It was pretty straight.

All this time, she was being watched, through the corners of eyes, through glasses of lagers, or just outright stares. There were few women here, a couple knee warmers, a waitress, and a sloppy drunk with a fistful of darts. There was a table free, but Mannie didn't want to play by herself.

"Hey pretty lady. You shoot pool?" A short man nodded at her without looking up from his effort to chalk his cue.

"A little," Mannie said as she worked her hand around a depleting mound of chalk beside her. "You're not too good, are you?"

"Aw, sweetie, I'll be easy on you. Put those quarters away; I got this one." He put the chalk on the edge of the table, turned to make a face to his friend who had taken a seat to watch, and began pulling the balls out of the pockets.

"How 'bout this, sweetie, I'll rack and you break." Again, a look to his friend that Mannie didn't even try to see. His friend laughed with a small heave of his shoulders and covered a smile with his chunky hand.

"That would be very nice thank you, but you don't have to do me any favors." Mannie chalked her cue thoroughly, grinding it with rhythm, and buffing the edges. She blew the extra dust off and double-checked the alignment.

"So what's you name little lady?"

"Mannie, and you are…"

"Call me Duke." He arranged the balls with speed and pulled one out of the rack. He used this all to tap on the one in front and then put it back. A quick forward thrust of his arms and an even quicker thrust back and the balls were in place.

Mannie hated the one ball in front. She never was a fan of yellow and to have it staring at her from the start made her uneasy. They all put the one in front. The rack looked tight and Mannie walked to the table. It was now apparent that everyone was watching her, no secret peeks. She pulled the cue ball in closer to the edge and straddled her fingers around the stick. Her fingers pressed down hard on the table and blood was trapped at the tips. She leaned down only slightly to get a stronger shot. She knew the men were watching her as intently as she stared down the table. Her shoulder came in first and the cue went straight towards the one. With a crack the balls scattered out before her. She stayed down low until the last one stopped. It was a good break, but none sunk.

"Not bad for a skinny arm like that." Duke laughed along with a few other men.After a deep swig from his mug, he walked around the table eyeing the opportunities. After he had found his shot he crouched low, his legs spread far away from the table. Mannie could smell him when he made drastic movements and backed away from the table. He was going for a left english, but Mannie knew he had pointed his ass too far in the wrong direction. He took the shot slow. The cue hit on the side, but refused to put a spin on the ball.

"Looks like it just might not be my night," Duke said.

Mannie moved in for her turn. She preferred the high balls and saw an option on the side. She positioned her cue then placed her body accordingly. She knew this avoided mistakes like the one Duke had just made. A slight draw and the ball went in without a scratch.

"Look at you. We got us a regular pool shark." Duke's mug rode on his stomach as he laughed. "Lucky shot maybe." Mannie smiled at Duke and turned the same smile on the group that had moved in for the show. Mannie had set up her next shot well. She bent over far and held her hips level with the table. A straight shot.

"Where'd you come from anyway? You from Rapid City?" Duke watched her rather than the table. Mannie thought she could've slipped in some balls without him even noticing, without taking his eyes off her.

"No." Mannie kept her sight on the table.

"You from Deadwood? Probably not. They don't make 'em as pretty as you over there." Duke balanced beside Mannie on the table.

She lined up her shot again. The whole bar seemed to have leaned in toward Mannie.

"You even from South Dakota?" Duke asked. He moved in behind her, looking toward his friends. Mannie felt his arm closing in on her. Her arm shot forward and the cue ball flew straight toward its target. "Chicago."

Live to Ride. Ride to Live.

"What are you just going to sit in the car all night?" Mannie's father walked tiredly into the house.

She sat in the car thinking about how she just needed to learn how to drive it. She knew it would be a few weeks before her father mentioned driving again. She played with the mirrors and reclined the seat. The sun was going down soon and her feet were starting to get cold. She grabbed her boots in the back and put them on.

The car was hers. She had saved up and bought it from a friend of the family. She wanted that car. She wanted to work the car or else it was nothing to her. She started the engine and began playing with the gearshift. She went through the pattern, imagining where she could be going if she could drive it. From first to second she gripped the steering wheel with her left arm held straight in front of her. Third to fourth, the gears clicked. Fifth gear brought her arm to a reach. Back to neutral then to first again. For five minutes she went through them over and over again, her calf was aching from the stretch to the clutch. She put it in neutral and moved her seat up. She had forgotten about reverse. It clicked in and her foot came off the brake. She began rolling slowly back. As she crept down the driveway she saw her father turn off the light in his room.

She released her foot from the clutch and the car rumbled the change in her ashtray. She was still rolling. She brought her foot to the gas and the engine made a sweet sound. It buzzed backwards and she was in the street. She stopped. She wondered how she would get back in the driveway.

Mannie looked up the driveway and then shot a long stare down the street. She found first and maneuvered her feet. The car rumbled until she made the engine rev and then she felt it go. She felt erself go; she was going somewhere else. When the noise got loud she'd shift. The car would jerk forward, but that would stop soon enough and she would be going again. She circled the city for an hour before she found herself on the highway. She wasn't thinking about where she planned to go, only that she had somewhere to go.