I prefer the manual trans, but I don't own one at the moment. When we got married, my wife wanted to buy her "dream car" and I said, sure! What did I know? She wanted a bright red Camaro with t-tops.
I said as long as she didn't think I was going to grow a mullet to match it, that was fine. Then came the bombshell--V6, automatic trans, non-negotiable. Yuck.
Well, it was her dream car, so I found her one and we bought it. Yuck. I mean, it looks cool. It's a '95 with the Z28 wheels and all. But it's long, heavy, hard to park because you can't see the nose or the back, it's hell to get in and out, the doors are only about seven feet long, it's an oven in the summer because of the huge expanses of glass. . . . I could forgive all that in a screamer, but this car is a wuss. It has tiny brakes, a soft, spongy automatic, teensy little anti-roll bars, and a 3.4l V6. Not even the 3.8, but the 3.4. Ick.
My first vehicle was a 1977 Bronco (the generation that looked like a Ford Jeep) with a three speed on the column. It was practically impossible and I loved it. I wish I still owned it. Three on the tree, manual brakes, manual steering, a 302 4bbl, insane granny low, 4.11 gears front and rear, front Dana 44, rear Ford 9-inch axles. . . . that thing was bulletproof. It would go anywhere on 31-inch all-terrains.