When I was a boy, we had pre-air-conditioning features on our car called “wings.” Little vertical windows that directed outside air into the car. Open the wing and air would hit the glass and fly into the car.

The downside was that the wing also directed anything that was flying in the air into the car.

One Sunday a bee hit the wing, was jettisoned into the car and got caught in my sweater. I began screaming, “A bee! Agh! Mom! It’s a bee! I’m gonna die!”

“Pipe down!” my sympathet...