A bad, bad grandpa.

When I was young, my grandfather used to take me on long trips for short purposes.
We used to travel for 6 hours or more. He had a vehicle brand Walkswagen model beetle (very in the wave) but carbon monoxide is what no one could swallow in a trip of 6 hours.

It was horrible the feeling of nausea and vomiting that caused me such lack of oxygen and I was a shy child and I did not like to talk about my ailments.
When I got out of the car, my legs did not react and the little that I could walk served me on the stairs of the entrance of a building, I needed to bend my head, to breathe, to wait for my pressure to normalize. It was there when my grandfather broke in saying: What the hell is wrong with you? Get up from that shit. You have to stand, you've been sitting all the way Do you need more rest? For you must win it, help me with the suitcases, and when I lift the first, I collapsed on the floor. Without oxygen, without forces.

I remained his mule of burden in discomfort.