I zipped around in that car for years, until my early fifties, when I found that my right foot was consistently and rhythmically pumping the throttle. The car would accelerate, decelerate; accelerate, decelerate, lurching down the road as I struggled to control it. That will take the sexy right out of a red convertible. Another safety issue: my increasing uneasiness about the proximity of other cars on the roadway, a PD-related spatial perception deficit. I also developed a tendency to steer in whatever direction I was looking. All of this convinced me that—despite the fact that I still had a
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