Jun 29, 2015 3 min read

When I was a kid, our car used the old 4-55 method of air conditioning. You know, four windows rolled down while traveling 55 mph? And yes, we actually had to roll them down.

At any rate, we didn’t have a vehicle with functional air conditioning for most of my childhood. It didn’t bother me any; I loved to travel with an arm out the window, riding the wave of air created by the moving car.

My mom never seemed to mind my arm sticking out but cautioned me – in that melodramatic way that only a mother can – that at any moment I might hit my arm off something and break it off. I never listened to her, until one day we were riding along a back road.

That day, I was riding along in my usual fashion, snaking my arm up and down with the wind. All of a sudden, we met another car and Mom had to hug our side of the road. The tall weeds and briars whipped my exposed skin, leaving welts and scratches from wrist to elbow. (Fortunately, the arm stayed attached to my shoulder.) I was far more conservative after that.

Fast forward a decade or two. We now own a lovely car whose air conditioner works in stellar fashion. Still, I often can be seen with the windows down instead. Sometimes, I can be seen with my arm up on the door, occasionally sticking my hand up to catch a small wind wave. Such was the case last week.

My daughter was driving herself to soccer practice on the eve of her driver’s exam (she passed). But being that she still had a permit, I was in the front passenger seat. She is a careful driver – at least in my presence – so I was only paying a little attention to her and more to the scenery along the way.

My arm was resting on the door ledge, not dipping and waving, but merely sitting there minding its own business. All of a sudden, I heard a snap and felt an intense stinging on my arm. Assuming a bug had taken its final flight, I nonchalantly looked down at my forearm.

It was a bug’s final flight, all right. And it was still attached to my arm – at least, its stinger was. I had been stung by a bee while riding along in my car. Perhaps it was the speed we were traveling, or perhaps I am more sensitive than I used to be, but boy did that hurt!

I flicked the stinger out, trying to prevent any more venom from pumping in than already had entered. Still, the damage was done. Outside the immediate center, my arm began to swell and turn red. Stinging pain radiated out in a toothache-like throb. A lump the size of a half dollar formed. For days it itched and burned, but finally it healed and went away.

Too bad the desire to ride with my arm out the window won’t follow suit.

Laura Zoeller can be reached at zoeller5@verizon.net.