Back in 1999, I was trying to convince my then girlfriend that it would be a good idea to buy a motorcycle. She had no interest in riding on the back, so she urged me to buy a sports car. While visiting my dad in my old hometown, a buddy, to whom I previously sold my MGB, called and told me he knew of a Healey for sale. I decided to check it out. A 1963 Austin Healey Sprite was stuffed in a lean-to barn in northwest Indiana. As I looked it over, I moved a blanket and uncovered a wasp nest! I slid out of the barn as quickly as possible, but I got stung. I should have taken this as a sign. While haggling over the price, I felt a little dizzy and excused myself to get some Benadryl. The seller was not pleased. As we got to the pharmacy, I began to go into a full allergic reaction. I pulled over and let my girlfriend take the wheel. I attempted to give her directions to the hospital with swollen lips and tongue. As I filled out the emergency room forms, I lost consciousness. The doctors assured me I'd survive. The next day, I returned to buy the car. It had the usual rust spots and most of the parts were there. I spent the next three years restoring it and the girlfriend ditched me before she got a ride.