Sunday, April 3, 2011

You give me fever

"Fever in the morning and fever all through the night."— Eddie Cooley and Otis Blackwell, co-composers of Fever

A FEW WEEKS ago when I was running a temperature of 102.6, I mentioned that I've done some pretty wacked out things under the influence of a fevered brain. Here's another one.

Shortly after Paul and I returned from being married in Cuernavaca, Mexico, I was minding my own business driving to the office when an oversized pick-up truck blew through a red light and crashed into me. It was a blind intersection in my direction, so I was a sitting duck — or a driving duck, as the case may be. My car was totaled, and although I initially believed myself to be shaken, but uninjured, as a result of the spin-lash I developed severe neck, head and jaw pain that persisted for at least two years — until I found an upper cervical/cranial specialist.

I said all that to explain why we needed to buy a car.

Back then Paul was working at Rieman Music where he was the band instrument buyer. His schedule included Saturdays which reduced the car-shopping opportunities significantly. Having been without a car for awhile, one Saturday I drove him to work in his little Toyota pickup truck so I could use it to start looking for a replacement — car, that is, not husband.

My wrecked car had been a white Acura LegendI absolutely loved it, and I was on a mission to find another one. I started the day out feeling perfectly fine, but after I got to the car dealership, I began getting really sick really fast. 

You know how with a bacterial infection you can go from completely well to so sick in maybe an hour? That's what happened. By the time I got home, I had a) spiked a really high temperature and b) committed to purchasing a red Acura Legend.

At home, I began throwing up so much that I just laid down on the bathroom floor — unintentionally in such a position that my legs were sticking out of the bathroom doorway. Paul got home from work, and as he came around the corner from the dining room toward the back bedrooms, there was the bathroom door partly ajar with what looked like a dead body on the floor. He about had a heart attack.

It was a fierce illness. After I recovered, I realized that we owned a car that I really didn't like even a little bit. I'm averse to red cars, and the engine was a dog. 

Fortunately, since it was a late model used, there was no big drop in value for having purchased it, and we were able to trade it in to get Paul's first mini-van, an extremely practical ride for a gigging musician. Eventually we replaced my adored white Acura Legend with a gunmetal gray one that I drove for years.

The moral of the story is — don't buy anything when you're running a high fever. There's a distinct possibility that the decisions you make while under the influence will not be your best.

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1 comment:

  1. Bwahahaha! That's a great story - now. At the time, it must have been pretty horrendous. Gotta tell you - at first I decided that you'd gotten married because you were sick. By the time I realized it was just a car, the relief was palpable! LOL - I hope you see the humor in my error.