I love to comment on poems and analyze them, but this one is making me blush! The poem, a fairly famous one, is a thinly veiled reference to sexual activity. If, instead of a car, you think of the object of the man's efforts as a woman, well, it starts to make more sense.
Normally I like to quote from the poem to prove my point but I feel kind of dirty doing it here. I'll let someone else point out the details. The man, though, fumbles around like men do in sexual situations. Once he begins to handle his "car" more delicately, and with greater respect for its mechanics, the car responds a lot better to his "driving." In the end, because of his skillful handling of the, uh, throttle, he gets the car to go really fast and then brings it to a satisfying stop.
And, as Forest Gump said, "that's all I have to say about that."
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