Clutch-Worthy

I drive a standard transmission car.  I prefer a stick shift for lots of reasons (snow, rain, gas mileage, control of the vehicle among crazy NJ drivers) but in heavy traffic, it can be a nuisance because I am a girl protective of her clutch.  In my lifetime, I've only replaced one clutch, and that at 90,000 miles.  I've driven more than one car to 140,00 miles and still been on the original clutch.  So it would be fair to say that I am very careful of the clutch.

In traffic, this makes me that annoying driver who won't inch up when traffic is at a standstill and there is space between me and the next car.  I won't inch up as that would require depressing the clutch.  And I want that clutch to last, so I engage it as little as possible.  Yesterday, stuck in traffic, I had some time to consider this practice and realized that my entire driving philosophy is summed up by whether or not I consider an action clutch-worthy.  Yesterday, the driver behind me in his giant hulk of SUV could see that I wasn't moved up within a breath of the bumper ahead of me and it caused him great angst.  I took my foot off the brake and let the car roll s-l-o-w-l-y forward down the slight incline - my compromise policy - and it like to kill him.  But I didn't care, having deemed those extra inches not to be clutch-worthy.

Oh, my God, Internet: I'm a jerk.