Had a hell of a thunderstorm last night. I was working my way home about 9 pm and saw blinkers on the side of the road. It was a 1967 Mustang that had seen better days. The owner was an RN that assisted in at-home deliveries. For her to be out this time of day meant only one thing. I pulled up in front of her so she'd know it was me (Only vehicle in Missouri with "MMC-RET" on the plates.) She ran up and jumped in. "Stupid thing won't get out of 1st gear and Mrs. Johanssen is in labor." "Take this and I'll walk the 'Stang to my house. I'll call a wrecker in the morning and get it to Ronsick's." She took off and I put-putted along doing 15 mph. Suddenly it hit. Here I am, 66.6 years old and I'm finally driving a midwife crisis car.