She Can't Handle My Stick Shift

A devoted man explains, in painstaking detail, why his date can't handle his four-on-the-floor — and the bar knows exactly what he means.

[Intro]

(Spoken over twangy guitar riff) Now I got me a '78 Ford with a four-on-the-floor — ain't a woman alive who can tame her right. But Lord knows they've tried.

[Verse 1]

She climbed up in the cab, said she'd never done it before I said just grab it firm, darlin', ease it off the floor She said, "Lord have mercy, honey, it's bigger than I thought" I said, "Slow and easy, baby — that's the trick she's got" She fumbled with the footwork, ground it goin' into third I said, "Don't force it, sugar" — she shook like a flushed-out bird

[Chorus]

She can't handle my stick shift (Can't handle it!) Too much truck for one woman's hands (Way too much!) She can't work my four-on-the-floor (Four on the floor!) Till a gear-jammer teaches her the plan She tried to pop the clutch, babe But she ain't got the touch, babe She can't handle my stick shift — HYAH!

[Verse 2]

She said, "Maybe I should try it from the other side" I said, "No shame in a learning curve — let me be your guide" She got to sweatin', grindin' gears, said, "This takes real skill!" I said, "That ain't the accelerator, darlin' — but you've got the will" She found her rhythm finally right around mile nine I said, "Now you've got it, girl — she's purrin' mighty fine"

[Chorus]

She can't handle my stick shift (Can't handle it!) Too much truck for one woman's hands (Way too much!) She can't work my four-on-the-floor (Four on the floor!) Till a gear-jammer teaches her the plan She tried to pop the clutch, babe But she ain't got the touch, babe She can't handle my stick shift — HYAH!

[Bridge]

(Spoken, band stripped back to quiet bass and piano) Now I know what every one of y'all is thinkin' right now... and I appreciate the enthusiasm. I truly do. But I am talkin' about my truck. My 1978 Ford F-250, four-speed manual transmission, 360 cubic inches of American iron. (long pause, grinning) ...She does run real smooth now, though. (crowd roars) The TRUCK, people. The TRUCK. ...mostly.

[Final Chorus]

She can't handle my stick shift (Can't handle it!) Too much truck for one woman's hands (Way too much!) She can't work my four-on-the-floor (Four on the floor!) Till a gear-jammer teaches her the plan She tried to pop the clutch, babe But she ain't got the touch, babe She can't handle my stick shift — YEEHAW!

[Outro]

(Spoken over fiddle tag, train beat fading) The transmission, fellas. I'm talkin' about the transmission. ...I think. (final hollered "hyah!" then silence)