Okay, so maybe it’s me.
I am a rather substantial, tall person but despite my hardy appearance, I fainted while cooking pancakes. I fainted on airplanes causing international incidents and on one of my most stellar days (not!), I fainted and woke up lying with my head in my boss’s lap while he yelled at everyone to call 911.
I was treated, unsuccessfully, for years which meant that even though I had my driver’s license, it kept getting suspended and I couldn’t drive through my teens or twenties.
Y’know…probably not a bad idea when one is a keeler over type.
I realize that you can’t hear my voice as you read this and so therefore, you may not have fully grasped yet how completely sensible yet incredibly frustrating and sad it was when I couldn’t drive for 17 very, very, very long years.
I mean, that’s enough time to yield an almost full-grown person with an attitude problem who will mock my choice of vintage vehicles, people!
Anyway, the persistent mis-diagnosis and its corresponding ineffective treatment meant that my husband and I were resigned to living on a suburban bus route. And despite being a passionate lover of vintage “ugly duckling” cars, I despaired of ever being able to drive—let alone own—one of the vehicles in my dreams.
Thanks in large part to my husband who provided some helpful information to medical types, I now take anti-keeling over medication (I think that’s what the pharmacist calls it, actually) and I and our Beetle, “Daizybug” spend from May-September together every year.
Being able to not only own a vintage 1973 Volkswagen Super Beetle but also actually drive said car is still wondrous to me–even after 6 years–so forgive me if I gush a little.
It’s a May-September romance, worth more than any ol’ pot of gold.