True story. When I was three, we drove out to Arizona. We were supposed to make the trip in my Mom's Ford Escort. Instead we made the trip in my Dad's Volkswagen Rabbit. With no air conditioning. In the summer. It was 1989, and the car was 10. I'm not sure why The Rabbit didn't break down on the way there. I guess it's that reliable German engineering. This little adventure should have been its last hurrah. But that would come much later, and that's another story.
I'm sure vomit smells wonderful in the dead of summer. Sorry Mom and Dad.