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The Last Manuals: Three Pedals Are Becoming an Endangered Species

Fri, 11 Sep 2026 13:47:26 GMT

The Last Manuals: Three Pedals Are Becoming an Endangered Species

There was a time when driving a manual wasn't special. It wasn't an enthusiast option or something manufacturers bragged about. For millions of Americans, it was simply how you drove a car.

Today, only about 24 new models remain available in the U.S. with a manual transmission (“Cars With Manual Transmissions”). The bigger picture is even more surprising. According to the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, manual transmissions were found in nearly 35 percent of new vehicles in 1980 . Since 2021, they have accounted for less than one percent of production (U.S. Environmental Protection Agency 79).

We went from roughly one out of every three new vehicles being manual to fewer than one out of every hundred. So what happened?

When the Manual Was the Practical Choice

It's easy to forget that manuals weren't always about having fun. For years, they were often cheaper, simpler and more efficient than automatics.

Then automatic transmissions got really good. More gears, faster shifts and better efficiency changed the equation. The EPA reports that around 2012, the average automatic transmission surpassed the manual in number of gears. Modern automatics can now provide better efficiency and performance (U.S. Environmental Protection Agency 79).

Today, the automatic is usually faster, easier and, in many cases, more efficient. So why would anyone still want a manual?

Because driving isn't always about choosing the easiest option.

The Manual Gives You Something to Do

A manual makes you part of the process. You choose the gear. You operate the clutch. You learn the bite point, the engine and eventually the rhythm of the car. There's something satisfying about getting a downshift right or running through a good road without thinking about what your hands and feet are doing.

Is a modern automatic faster? Absolutely. But speed isn't everything. Sometimes involvement is what makes a car memorable.

The Last 24

The good news is there are still some great cars keeping the manual alive. The Mazda MX-5 Miata, Toyota GR86 and Subaru BRZ remain relatively affordable manual sports cars. The Subaru WRX, Hyundai Elantra N, Honda Civic Si and Toyota GR Corolla combine three pedals with everyday practicality.

Then there are the serious performance cars. The Ford Mustang, Nissan Z, Civic Type R and Acura Integra Type S can still be had with manuals. BMW continues to offer them in the M2, M3 and M4. Porsche keeps the manual alive in certain versions of the 911, and Lotus offers one in the Emira (“Every New Car”).

Then there's the Cadillac CT5-V Blackwing: a 668-horsepower supercharged V8, rear-wheel drive and a six-speed manual. A car like that almost feels like it shouldn't exist anymore.

Even the truck and SUV world has a few survivors. The Toyota Tacoma, Ford Bronco and Jeep Wrangler still offer clutch pedals.

But that's the point. We can actually sit here and name most of them.

Twenty or thirty years ago, listing every manual vehicle available in America would have been pointless. Today, there are only about two dozen left.

And the List Is Getting Shorter

Even some of today's survivors are already on borrowed time. The Toyota GR Supra is a perfect example.

When Toyota brought the Supra back, enthusiasts immediately asked one question: Where's the manual? Eventually, Toyota listened and paired the 3.0-liter Supra with a six-speed gearbox. Now it's already leaving.

Toyota has confirmed that production of the fifth-generation Supra is ending, bringing the current generation—and its six-speed manual—to a close (Toyota Motor North America).

That's the story of the modern manual transmission. One by one, they disappear.

Maybe We Didn't Realize What We Had

Cars are objectively better today in almost every measurable way. They're faster, safer, more efficient and more capable.

But I've always thought there's a difference between a car being impressive and a car being memorable .

Some of the cars enthusiasts love most aren't perfect. Heavy steering. Mechanical noises. Analog gauges. Engines that need to be revved. Gearboxes that take some effort. Those little imperfections create character.

The manual transmission may be one of the best examples. Nobody really needs one anymore, and that's exactly what makes its disappearance interesting.

The Specification May Matter More Than Ever

There's another side to this that I think will become increasingly important: specification.

The collector market has always cared about the details, engine, transmission, color, options, production numbers, documentation, condition and provenance. Sometimes one box checked on an original order sheet can completely change how enthusiasts look at a car years later.

That doesn't mean every manual car built today will become collectible. But imagine two otherwise similar enthusiast cars twenty years from now. One has the transmission almost everyone ordered. The other has a clutch pedal from an era when manuals represented less than one percent of new-vehicle production.

Which one tells the more interesting story?

As manuals become harder to find, transmission choice could become an increasingly important part of what makes certain specifications desirable.

Scarcity has a funny way of making yesterday's ordinary features feel special.

Enjoy Them While They're Here

The manual transmission isn't dead yet, but it's hard to ignore where things are heading. We've gone from nearly 35 percent of new vehicles in 1980 to less than one percent today , with only about two dozen new manual models remaining in America (U.S. Environmental Protection Agency 79; “Cars With Manual Transmissions”).

We may be looking at one of the last generations able to walk into a dealership and buy a traditional manual-transmission car new. Maybe that's why these cars deserve a little more appreciation while they're still here.

Not because they're faster, more efficient or easier.

But because driving one requires something from you.

You aren't just telling the car where to go. You're part of what makes it go.

And in an automotive world becoming more automated every year, that connection may end up being worth remembering.

The Drivers Reserve
Sourcing the Cars Worth Keeping.

Works Cited

“Cars With Manual Transmissions.” Car Curious, 25 Aug. 2026, getcarcurious.com/registry/manual-transmissions.

“Every New Car You Can Still Buy with a Manual Transmission.” Car and Driver, 28 Jan. 2026, caranddriver.com/features/a62909763/manual-transmission-cars-2025/.

Toyota Motor North America. “Take One Last Lap in the Toyota GR Supra MkV Final Edition.” Toyota USA Newsroom, 3 Apr. 2025, pressroom.toyota.com/take-one-last-lap-in-the-toyota-gr-supra-mkv-final-edition/.

U.S. Environmental Protection Agency. The 2025 EPA Automotive Trends Report: Greenhouse Gas Emissions, Fuel Economy, and Technology since 1975. EPA-420-R-26-001, Feb. 2026, www.epa.gov/system/files/documents/2026-02/420r26001.pdf .

The Drivers Reserve Blog #4 | Cadillac Is Bringing Bespoke Craftsmanship Back

Thu, 03 Sep 2026 12:55:44 GMT

Cadillac Is Bringing Bespoke Craftsmanship Back

There’s a lot I think the modern automotive industry could do better, but when a manufacturer gets something right, they deserve credit for it. Cadillac is getting something very right with the CELESTIQ.

Whether you like the styling, want an EV, or think a Cadillac should cost over $400,000 is a different conversation. What interests me about the CELESTIQ is the way Cadillac is building it. They aren't building hundreds of identical cars, shipping them to dealer lots, and hoping someone likes the color combination. Each CELESTIQ is commissioned for its owner, and that distinction matters.

Cadillac describes the CELESTIQ as a custom-commissioned, hand-built automobile. Buyers work with a personal design concierge to create their car, choosing colors, materials, finishes, and other details before the final specification is approved (“CELESTIQ”). This isn't the typical experience of choosing between a few interior colors and whatever exterior paints happen to be available.

The possibilities are nearly endless. Cadillac can develop custom exterior colors around a client's vision, while buyers work directly with designers to select materials and finishes throughout the car. Physical samples can be created during the process so the customer can actually see and feel different combinations before making a final decision (Stafford). If you want a particular color Cadillac doesn't offer, they can develop it. If you have something completely different in mind for the interior, you can work with the designers to make it happen.

That's what makes the CELESTIQ interesting to me. You're not just choosing options. You're commissioning your car.

That used to be a much bigger part of what made high-end automobiles special. Today, we've become accustomed to buying cars in packages. Want one option? You might need a $7,000 package containing six other things you didn't ask for. Want a certain interior with a particular exterior color? It may simply not be available. That makes manufacturing easier, but it doesn't necessarily make the finished car more special.

CELESTIQ takes almost the opposite approach. Once the specification is finalized, the car is hand-built at Cadillac's Artisan Center in Warren, Michigan. Production is intentionally extremely limited, allowing Cadillac to spend considerably more time on each vehicle than would ever be possible on a conventional high-volume assembly line (“CELESTIQ”). Even the paint process can take more than two weeks (Stafford).

From a manufacturing standpoint, that probably sounds terribly inefficient. I think that's part of the point. Some things shouldn't be optimized to death.

If someone is spending this kind of money on an automobile, there should be evidence that real time, thought, and craftsmanship went into creating it. That's where I think we've started to lose some of the meaning of luxury.

Luxury has increasingly become another screen, another piece of technology, more ambient lighting, or another feature buried somewhere in a menu. Those things can certainly be impressive, but they aren't craftsmanship. To me, real luxury is something you can see and feel: the quality of the leather, the finish of the metal, the texture of the materials, the way a switch feels when you use it, or the depth of the paint. At this level, it should also mean owning something that isn't exactly the same as everyone else's.

That's what Cadillac seems to understand with the CELESTIQ. There is some irony here, of course. The car has a massive 55-inch display across its dashboard and is one of the most technologically advanced Cadillacs ever produced. Road & Track even questioned whether more traditional analog details could have made the interior feel more timeless (Bovingdon). I can understand that criticism, but I also don't think bringing craftsmanship back means pretending technology doesn't exist.

The two can coexist. Keep the technology. Keep pushing performance and engineering forward. Just don't forget about the materials, the details, and the people actually building the car.

Cadillac once called itself “The Standard of the World.” That's an enormous statement, but at its best, Cadillac represented American ambition. The cars were distinctive, beautifully finished, and unmistakably Cadillacs.

CELESTIQ doesn't try to recreate those cars, and it shouldn't. What it brings back is something more important: the philosophy behind them. Build something special, let the customer make it personal, use great materials, take your time, and take pride in what leaves the building.

That's what I respect about the CELESTIQ. You don't have to like the car to appreciate what Cadillac is trying to do. In an industry increasingly focused on building more cars, faster and more efficiently, Cadillac created one where the entire point is to slow down and make each one different.

I hope more manufacturers are paying attention, because maybe the future of luxury isn't about giving us more.

Maybe it's about giving us better .

— The Drivers Reserve

Works Cited

Bovingdon, Jethro. “The Cadillac Celestiq Is Both Spectacular and Strange.” Road & Track, 6 May 2025.

Cadillac. “CELESTIQ.” Cadillac, General Motors.

Stafford, Eric. “Cadillac Gives Us an Inside Look at Building a Bespoke Celestiq.” Car and Driver, 26 May 2024.

The Drivers Reserve Blog #3 | The Corvette That Was Never Supposed to Exist

Wed, 02 Sep 2026 17:35:44 GMT

The Corvette That Was Never Supposed to Exist

What makes a Corvette worth $18.7 million?

At the 2026 Monterey auction, a 1963 Chevrolet Corvette Grand Sport sold through RM Sotheby’s for $18,705,000, becoming the most valuable Corvette ever sold at auction (“1963 Chevrolet Corvette Grand Sport”). The price is incredible, the story behind the car is even better. This wasn't simply a rare Corvette. It was one of five cars created from a racing program General Motors tried to stop, and it was built with one goal in mind: beat Carroll Shelby.

By 1963, Zora Arkus-Duntov had a problem. The new Corvette Sting Ray was fast, but Carroll Shelby's Cobra was significantly lighter and proving itself on the racetrack. Duntov knew Chevrolet needed something much more serious. His answer was the Grand Sport. Although it resembled a Sting Ray, underneath it was essentially a purpose-built race car. Chevrolet used a lightweight tubular chassis, an incredibly thin fiberglass body, and lightweight materials throughout. The result weighed roughly 1,900 pounds, compared with around 3,200 pounds for a standard Corvette (“1963 Chevrolet Corvette Grand Sport”).

For the 1963 Bahamas Speed Week, the cars were equipped with all-aluminum 377-cubic-inch V-8s breathing through four Weber carburetors. Nearly 500 horsepower, roughly 2,000 pounds in 1963...

Duntov had his Cobra fighter.

There was only one problem: General Motors had officially withdrawn from factory-supported racing. When GM leadership discovered what was happening, the program was stopped. A project intended to produce far more cars ended after just five Grand Sports were completed. Fortunately, five were enough. Three Grand Sport coupes eventually made their way to John Mecom Jr.'s racing operation for the 1963 Bahamas Speed Week. Among them was chassis 003—the same car that would sell for $18.7 million more than sixty years later. The cars arrived at Nassau with massive tires, dramatically flared bodywork, and serious V-8 power. Even Carroll Shelby came over to inspect them.

Early racing revealed a problem: overheating differentials. Engineers worked to develop an external cooling solution, and the Grand Sports went back out (Thurn). Then they did exactly what Duntov had created them to do, they beat the Cobras. In the Nassau Trophy, John Cannon drove chassis 003 to second in class while Dick Thompson took the class victory in another Grand Sport. The cars had earned an appropriate nickname: “Snake Eaters.” But chassis 003 wasn't finished making history. At the 1964 12 Hours of Sebring, the car was driven by John Cannon and A.J. Foyt. Mechanical trouble during qualifying left them starting 62nd on a 66-car grid.

Then the green flag dropped.

Foyt reportedly passed around 50 cars on the opening lap (Thurn).

Imagine the scene: a Corvette Chevrolet wasn't supposed to build, starting nearly dead last at Sebring, charging through almost the entire field in a single lap. Despite further mechanical trouble, Foyt and Cannon recovered to finish second in class. Chassis 003 returned to Sebring the following year and finished third in class (“1963 Chevrolet Corvette Grand Sport”). That history alone makes the car significant. What makes chassis 003 even more remarkable is how much of it survived. Race cars tend to live brutal lives. They crash, break, get repaired, modified, and rebuilt. Decades later, determining how much remains of the original machine can become part of the challenge.

Grand Sport 003 escaped much of that fate. Its original tubular structure and lightweight fiberglass body survived, along with numerous Grand Sport-specific components. Even its dashboard and seats are believed to be original (“1963 Chevrolet Corvette Grand Sport”).

That brings us back to $18.7 million.

The buyer wasn't simply buying a 1963 Corvette.

They were buying Grand Sport 003 .

One of five built. The first of three coupes. Developed under Zora Arkus-Duntov. Built to challenge Shelby, raced at Nassau and Sebring. Driven by A.J. Foyt, Jim Hall, Augie Pabst, John Cannon, and other significant names in American motorsport. Most importantly, they were buying history, you can reproduce a part, you can rebuild an engine, you can recreate a paint scheme, you cannot recreate the fact that this chassis went racing at Nassau and Sebring more than sixty years ago.

That's what makes the collector-car world so fascinating. Rarity alone doesn't make a great car. The truly exceptional automobiles combine specification, originality, condition, documentation, provenance, and history. That principle doesn't only apply to $18 million race cars. Two cars can share the same year, model, and engine and still be worlds apart in desirability. Sometimes the difference is a rare factory specification. Sometimes it's an unusual color combination. Sometimes it's exceptional originality or ownership history, and sometimes it's because Zora Arkus-Duntov built a Corvette that GM didn't really want him racing, sent it to the Bahamas to hunt Cobras, and later put A.J. Foyt behind the wheel at Sebring.

That's a little harder to replicate.

There are Corvettes, there are rare Corvettes, and then there are five Grand Sports.

One of them just sold for $18.7 million.

Not simply because it's rare.

Because history only happens once.

— The Drivers Reserve

Works Cited

“1963 Chevrolet Corvette Grand Sport.” RM Sotheby’s, The Monterey Auction, 2026.

Thurn, Walt. “The Day the Corvette Grand Sports Stomped the Cobras.” Hot Rod, 22 June 2016.

The Drivers Reserve Blog #2 | When Did Cars Lose Their Character?

Mon, 31 Aug 2026 18:11:29 GMT

When Did Cars Lose Their Character?

Walk through almost any parking lot today and take a look around. White, Black, Gray and Silver dominate. Different manufacturers, different price points and different badges, yet somehow so much of it blends together. The same neutral colors, enormous screens and increasingly familiar interior layouts.

Modern cars have never been more capable. They're faster, safer, more efficient and more technologically advanced than anything that came before them. There are some truly incredible cars being built today.

So why do so many of them feel less special?

Think about the cars we remember. It usually isn't because they had the largest screen or the most ambient lighting. We remember how they looked, sounded and felt. We remember unusual colors, distinctive interiors, beautiful gauges, mechanical switches and all the small details that gave a car its identity.

Even ordinary cars once seemed more willing to be different. Look back through automotive history and you'll find deep greens, rich blues, burgundies, yellows, oranges, browns and countless unusual combinations. Interiors could be just as distinctive, with different colors, textures and materials giving each car a personality of its own.

Today, we've become remarkably comfortable with sameness, and the numbers back it up.

A study of more than 20 million vehicles by iSeeCars, highlighted by Forbes, found that white, black, gray and silver represented 60.3% of the market in 2004. By 2023, those four colors accounted for 80%. In only two decades, the share of genuinely colorful cars was effectively cut in half.

More recent iSeeCars research suggests that trend may finally be leveling off. Grayscale colors still represented just over 80% of the market in 2025, but their share has remained around that level since 2020. Maybe we've finally reached peak gray.

Color, however, is only part of the story.

Screens have transformed the modern automobile. They provide navigation, vehicle information, entertainment and capabilities engineers could have only dreamed about a few decades ago. Technology isn't the enemy here.

But somewhere along the way, the screen became the centerpiece.

Physical controls disappeared. Analog gauges became graphics. Buttons became menus. Materials that once gave an interior substance and character increasingly compete with glossy plastics, synthetic finishes and touch-sensitive surfaces.

We've gained functionality, but I'm not convinced we've always improved the experience.

The same can be said for luxury. Luxury shouldn't simply mean a larger screen, another strip of ambient lighting or more technology hidden behind another menu. True luxury should be something you can feel. It's the weight of a switch, the grain of real wood, the cool touch of metal, supple high-quality leather, a beautifully designed instrument cluster or the solid sound of a door closing.

It's craftsmanship that doesn't need to announce itself.

And as vehicle prices continue to climb, expecting better materials and greater attention to detail doesn't seem unreasonable.

Of course, there isn't one villain responsible for making cars less interesting. Automakers operate at enormous scale. Manufacturing complexity costs money. Shared platforms make financial sense. Standardized components improve efficiency. Screens can replace dozens of individual switches, and neutral colors are easier for dealers to stock because they're perceived as safer choices for the next buyer.

We as consumers deserve some of the responsibility as well.

If buyers continually choose black, white and gray because they're worried about resale value, or simply because that's what's sitting on dealer lots, manufacturers have every reason to keep producing them.

That's what makes the color data particularly interesting. Despite the dramatic move toward grayscale, the average number of exterior colors offered on a new vehicle changed surprisingly little between 2004 and 2023. The colors didn't entirely disappear from the order sheet. In many cases, we simply stopped choosing them.

Efficiency itself isn't the problem. The problem comes when efficiency becomes the overriding philosophy behind the product.

At some point, you have to ask more than, "How cheaply and efficiently can we build this?"

You also have to ask, "How good can we make it?"

I'm not interested in going backward. Modern engineering has given us extraordinary automobiles, and technology absolutely has a place in them. Some of the greatest performance cars ever produced are being built right now.

But progress shouldn't require abandoning personality.

We don't need another screen simply because there's room for one. We need better materials, better craftsmanship, interesting colors, thoughtful interiors and physical controls where physical controls make sense. We need the small details that exist simply because someone cared enough to get them right.

Most of all, we need cars that feel like somebody took pride in creating them.

Perhaps that's why specification has become such an important part of the enthusiast and collector market. Two cars can share the same year, model and engine and still feel completely different.

The right factory color, a rare interior, an unusual option combination, original materials, documentation, provenance and condition can completely change the character and desirability of a vehicle. Individually, they might seem like small details. Together, they can be the difference between simply finding the model you wanted and finding an example that feels genuinely special.

That's something we believe strongly at The Drivers Reserve.

The search shouldn't end when you find the right make and model. It ends when you find the right car.

The automobile has never been merely transportation. It's engineering, design, craftsmanship, culture and self-expression wrapped into one machine. That's why certain cars become part of our lives. It's why we remember the car our parents drove, the poster we had on our bedroom wall or the first car we worked years to buy.

Cars can make us feel something.

Manufacturers shouldn't lose sight of that in the pursuit of making everything newer, smarter and more efficient. Keep the technology. Keep pushing performance. Keep making cars safer and better.

But give us the craftsmanship back. Give us the colors, the quirks and the personality.

Most importantly, take pride in the product.

Don't just build another car.

Build something worth keeping.

— The Drivers Reserve

The Drivers Reserve Blog #1

Thu, 27 Aug 2026 22:54:57 GMT

When Did Our Cars Get So Big?

Walk through any parking lot today and you'll notice something that has quietly become the new normal.

Our vehicles have gotten enormous.

A modern pickup can make a sports car from just two decades ago look miniature. Today's SUVs are taller, wider, and heavier than ever before, and even many vehicles labeled as "midsize" would have been considered full-size not long ago.

It's one of those changes that happened so gradually, most of us barely noticed.

As someone who genuinely loves automobiles, I'm not here to argue that bigger is bad. Modern trucks and SUVs are remarkable pieces of engineering. They're more capable, more comfortable, and in many ways safer than the vehicles they replaced.

But every engineering decision comes with a trade-off.

And one question has become increasingly difficult to ignore:

Have we made our vehicles safer for the people inside them while making them more dangerous for the people outside them?

The Cost of Getting Bigger

The biggest change isn't horsepower or technology.

Its height.

Modern trucks and SUVs have taller hoods and more upright front ends than ever before. That gives drivers a commanding view of the road ahead, but it also creates larger blind zones directly in front of the vehicle.

Imagine a child standing just a few feet ahead of a full-size pickup. Depending on the model, the driver may not be able to see them at all.

That's not carelessness, It's design. The concern goes beyond visibility. When a pedestrian is struck by a taller, heavier vehicle, the shape and height of the front end can make those crashes significantly more severe.

A recent New York Times investigation explored the relationship between the growing size of American trucks and SUVs and the rise in pedestrian fatalities. Whether you're an enthusiast, an engineer, or simply someone who spends time on the road, it raises a question that's worth thinking about.

We Asked for This

It's easy to point the finger at manufacturers. The reality is more complicated, we wanted more cargo space. More capability. More towing capacity. Better visibility. More technology. More comfort.

Manufacturers delivered exactly what buyers wanted.

SUVs replaced sedans. Pickup trucks became family vehicles. Crossovers became America's default choice.

Then something interesting happened.

As the average vehicle grew larger, driving something smaller began to feel less secure. The result is a cycle where bigger feels safer because everyone else is driving something bigger. Eventually, what once looked enormous simply becomes normal.

This Isn't About Eliminating Trucks or SUVs

Let's be clear.

There are plenty of legitimate reasons to own a larger vehicle.

Families need space. Contractors need trucks. Enthusiasts tow race cars. Some people live where four-wheel drive isn't a luxury it's a necessity.

And sometimes people simply like driving a truck.

There's nothing wrong with that.

This isn't about telling people what they should drive. It's about asking whether the next generation of vehicles can be just as capable while also becoming more considerate of the people who share the road.

Fortunately, technology is already helping. Automatic emergency braking, pedestrian detection, surround-view cameras, and advanced driver-assistance systems are making modern vehicles safer than ever before.

But technology shouldn't replace thoughtful engineering. It should complement it.

The Next Chapter of Automotive Design

As enthusiasts, we spend a lot of time talking about horsepower, Nürburgring lap times, carbon fiber, and the newest performance technology. Those conversations are part of what makes this hobby so enjoyable. But maybe the next great advancement in automotive engineering won't be measured by a spec sheet, maybe it'll be measured by something much simpler.

Can we continue building vehicles that are bigger, stronger, and more capable while making them safer for everyone who encounters them? That's a challenge worth solving, because great automotive design has never been about building the biggest vehicle.

It's about building the best one, and that's a future every enthusiast should be excited about.