So I practiced driving Danni more after we picked the Rat up from school—and proceeded to scare her shitless. She was convinced that the engine noises (the revving, which sounds all growly for a little four-cylinder) and the jerkiness was due to a serious lack of gas, and pretty much had a panic attack in the back seat, wailing about she wanted to go home, and we needed to go to a gas station, etc., etc.
I almost, almost felt sorry for her. But for rizzle, it wasn’t that damn bad. About half my starts are actually smooth now.
And besides: my car is a growly sexy beast, baby. Grr.