Arnie was buying a motorcycle. He told Sam the dealer, “I want a bike I can use to commute to my job. I’d like to take the surface streets and avoid the tunnel on the freeway. And a motorcycle will be just as economical as my carpool.”
“You’re giving up carpooling to ride a motorcycle to work?”
“Yeah,” Arnie said. “I can handle the backseat driving, Phil’s cologne, and Harry’s once-a-month bathing. I don’t mind the traffic or the bridges. I can even take it when the freeway becomes a parking lot during rush hour. But I am stressed out by the tunnel.”
Sam asked, “Do you have claustrophobia?”
“No, I don’t. I actually went to the company doc. I told him that I get woozy and anxious when I go into a tunnel. The doc didn’t have to check my heart or anything. He told me he knew what was wrong with me. I asked him, ‘Doc, am I going nuts?’ and he replied, ‘No, Arnie. What you’ve got is Carpool Tunnel Syndrome.’”
