Test Drive Turmoil: My First Automatic Car!

Sitting next to my wife in the showroom, I patiently waited as the car salesman (sorry — salesperson) told us all about his recent honeymoon in the Maldives and how his two‑year‑old son likes to eat mud.

Quite how this conversation materialised is beyond me, but by the time he finished talking we were all the best of friends (aww!).

The car I was about to test drive was an automatic. It was brand spanking new and worth over £30,000. My new best friend assured me this was a very reasonable price for a car these days (my first house cost me less!) and handed over the keys. At this point, I explained that I had never driven an automatic before, but he reassured me with his salesperson grin:

“You’ll be totally fine, buddy! It’s just like driving a dodgem car!”

Looking down at the two pedals while my wife got acquainted with the entertainment system and heated seats, my heart began pumping a little faster. I’ve been driving for thirty years without a single accident (apart from the fox that decided to embed itself in my front grille at Christmas), but I was used to driving a manual car with a clutch. How hard could it possibly be?

I put the car into Drive, just like my new best friend told me, released the footbrake, and started moving forwards. Nice.

Being the sensible person that I am, I decided to give the footbrake a little squeeze to test how much pressure I needed to gently slow the car. At this point, my lovely wife was leaning towards the radio, flicking through the 500 available stations. As she flicked past Mormon FM, I eased my foot onto the brake — and suddenly all hell broke loose.

The car jolted from 20 mph to an immediate stop, and my wife nearly headbutted the radio screen. I won’t repeat exactly what she said, as there may be small children present, but her language was at least an 18 certificate and extremely offensive to her loving husband.

I couldn’t understand what was wrong. I swear my foot was gentle on the brakes, but perhaps I’d overdone it. Being a brand‑new car, maybe the brakes were just tighter than normal. So I had another go…

This time my wife was looking inside the glove box for hidden extras when I gently tapped the brake again. As her head rebounded off the leather trim, she made a strange yelping/growling sound, then swore at me again — this time in what I can only describe as 35+ certificate.

At this point I felt like a complete idiot. Had I forgotten how to drive? What on earth was going on? Was there a setting I’d missed? I had no choice but to embarrass myself completely and return to the showroom with my head held in shame. I had let my new best friend down.

Trying his best not to patronise me, he came out to the car and sat in the passenger seat to guide me. This was great for my wife, of course, as she was now able to examine the heated massage seats and mini cinema in the back (I mean, what else is a car for!).

Just as I was about to drive off, he looked down at my feet and started laughing. I had my left foot on the brake while my right hovered over the accelerator. How was I supposed to know you only drive an automatic with one foot?

As it turns out, this is a very common phenomenon for people who’ve driven manual cars most of their lives and then switch to an automatic.

When I was testing the brakes with my left foot, no matter how gently I thought I was tapping it, my brain decided it was a clutch pedal and made me subconsciously push harder — hence torpedoing my lovely wife’s head into the glove box (at least she got a good look around).

Reluctantly, and still finding it hard to believe my left foot had been so heavy, I pressed down on the accelerator and started moving forwards. This time, instead of using my left foot to test the brake, I moved my right across — and the car gently slowed to a halt. It worked!

Each time we reached a junction, I had to shout at my left foot to stop moving and only brake with my right. Not only that, but the entire left side of my body was desperate to do things. Every time I slowed down or moved off again, my left hand reached out for the non‑existent gearstick. I had to fight my manual brain and turn it automatic. Really, really weird.

By the time we returned to the showroom, however, I was sold. Once you realise the left‑hand side of your body is not required to drive an automatic car (apart from your left eye, perhaps!) it becomes second nature very quickly, and you realise just how easy driving has become.

Now to smooth things out with my wife.

Thanks for reading.

Originally published at Test Drive Turmoil. My First Automatic Car! | by Simon Aylward | Never Stop Writing | Sep, 2026 | Medium