Should have bought the GT

When I left for work the other day, BabyCar wasn't feeling well – trouble breathing. She has had some asthma issues in the past, but we really didn't think it was going to be a big deal. By the end of the day, she had been short of breath for something like four hours and had developed sharp pain in her arms and back.

She called me at work. She said that she talked to someone at the obstemagician's office (not our actual doctor, because NO ONE may see the great and mighty Oz without an appointment). The nurse/receptionist/urine sample sniffer told her that she should go to the Emergency Room.

Apparently BabyCar's ailment was dangerous enough to warrant a trip to the ER, but not quite in the realm of things worth interrupting the doctor over.

So I get the "ummm…something's wrong and I need to go to the ER" call. I freaked.

I left a little cloud of smoke hanging in the air as I darted into the hallway and down the stairs. I park pretty close to the building where I work, but unfortunately for me, the stupid building is about a mile long.

I set a new personal record for the 100 yard dash as I made it to the long hallway downstairs. I made it about another 100 yards before I realized that at some point I turned into a fat guy that can no longer run at full speed for more than a few paces before I start gasping for breath on the outside and weeping on the inside.

I made it the rest of the way at a more moderate pace – slow enough that I didn't pass out, but fast enough that I almost overturned a little metal mail cart that veered into my path without signaling (move it, buddy!).

I finally made it to my brand new Subaru Legacy with the sport shift.

I jumped in, instinctively fiddled with the radio (focus, dammit!) and took off in a hurry. After bashing my way through a parking lot snow drift that turned out to be a lot more substantial that I was expecting, I made my way to the little four lane connector that runs pretty much from my office to my house.

As a reformed speeder, I had never really put my Subaru through its paces before, but I'll admit I was a little happy to have a good reason now.

I kicked the shifter over into sport mode and got ready to pass the first set of slow-pokes I encountered.

It was at exactly that moment that I realized something. My car is about as much a race car as I am a race horse.

I pressed the gas pedal to the floor and just managed to keep up with an oblivious woman in an Altima that was chatting away on her cell phone.

I'll spare you the details of the rest of my frenzied little trip, but if you must have a Subaru Legacy and think you might ever need to evade a police helicopter or pass an old lady, you should probably spring for the GT.

Anyway, I made it to the house, and BabyCar was waiting for me. We hopped into her Subaru with the semi-peppy V6, and made it the Urgent Care place in no time.

Urgent Care is like an emergency room outlet mall. It is just far enough off the beaten path to stay free of the usual Emergency Room gun-shot wound, drug overdose crowd, so we were able to pull in there on a Friday night and pretty much have the place to ourselves (with the exception of a college girl whose whole demeanor just screamed "Barbie's first STD").

The doctor saw us right away. She was clearly concerned and seemed competent, so we were happy. BabyCar had to breath into one of those fogger machines for five minutes and after that, the pain and shortness of breath started to subside. We walked out of there with two prescriptions – one for an inhaler and another for a just-in-case antibiotic because BabyCar had a slight fever.

We were told to have our next baby doctor appointment sooner, rather than later, and were on our way.

It was quite an afternoon.