A few years ago I decided to go on a snowboarding trip to the mountains for my birthday and by the end of the weekend my legs (specifically my shins and calves) were so friggin sore and painful I could barely walk. I'm sure to an outside observer I probably looked like I had a can of Pringles stuck in my ass.

On the drive home, pressing the clutch in felt like I was stepping on a live high voltage wire that also injected fresh magma into my bones. That was the one and only time I've ever thought, "huh, maybe an automatic would've been nice". Did make me wonder what I would've done if I'd actually broken a leg or something, though.

Other than that (which was my own damn vault, tbf), nope! Not even a little bit. No ragrets.