I’ll Never Be An Automatic Transmission Writer

The first time I attempted to drive a stick shift back in the 1970’s, I almost dropped the transmission of my friend’s VW Beetle. He almost cried when the Deutsche Bug made sickening sounds that sounded like, what I imagine, would be the death throes of a wild boar in the teeth of a hungry coyote.

Many years later when I was the CNN Detroit Bureau Chief/correspondent, the fine folks at Mazda lent us a Miata to demo when they first introduced the little two-seater. It, too, was a stick shift and I dutifully attempted to operate it successfully.

I did not. With the top down I proceeded to stall every hundred feet or so to the point where a rough-looking gentleman watching my utter inability to drive the little red sports car walked over and “volunteered” to drive it for me.

I quickly understood that doing so would result in the permanent disappearance of the car, which was not mine, or CNN’s, to donate to urban mayhem.

Perhaps 20 years later, as an employee of then Fiat Chrysler Automobiles, the company kindly offered to teach those who wanted to learn to drive a stick shift, some lessons and an opportunity to practice on its test track.

I failed the test miserably. Let’s just say the poor Dodge Challenger couldn’t withstand the challenge of a guy who literally could not get it in gear.

Now this makes me sad because car culture tells us there is true pleasure in moving up and down through the gears, exercising superior control over a vehicle and, yes, feeling like a bit of a badass—as opposed to letting an automatic transmission do all the work and having all the fun, but handling all the responsibility of controlled operation.

Doesn’t really seem satisfying, even though it’s a lot less work.

But that’s how I feel about using artificial intelligence to create copy.

You pop up whatever AI tool you like, enter the information and what you’d like the bot to do with it, then sit back and let it drive to the corner of  “got it done” and “exerted no effort.”

How satisfying is that? Well, I guess for those who are lazy, untalented or take no pride in their work it must be nirvana.

Oh, I was a fan of Nirvana, but not grungy copy.

I love writing. It’s never work for me. Ever. Sometimes it’s more challenging, but that’s what makes succeeding all the more satisfying.  

I get off on the thrill of coming up with just the perfect turn of a phrase or an original way of expressing a thought—at least in my mind.

I don’t submit a piece of copy for publication unless I feel I gave it my best effort at the time, but knowing I can always improve.

Now don’t start with nonsense like, “oh, he’s an old geezer Luddite too feeble or unwilling to handle advance technology.”

I don’t need an assist from AI to call “bullshit” on that.

Indeed, I embrace AI, but only as a tool, not the carpenter using it.

There are times when I feel blocked about a certain concept and I hit a dead end trying to express it. I’ll use AI to make suggestions. I won’t use any of them, but those suggestions will often kickstart my brain to form my own, original phrasing or structure.

The key is I want to be the one who did the work, will take pride in the work and responsibility for it.

Yeah, it’s like driving with a stick shift rather than an automatic transmission.

 It’s more satisfying to feel the rpms, make the shift changes seamlessly at just the right time, feel totally in control and enjoy the experience, thrill and knowledge you controlled it all.

Oh, the automatic will get you there with minimal effort, just as AI will do all the work for you—but no matter how deluded you are, it’s not your work and you’re not entitled to any feeling of accomplishment.

I may have been an utter failure at driving a car with a manual transmission, but when it comes to writing, I’ll stick with my personal AI, actual intelligence, to come through in the clutch.    

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