Until today, I drove a 2002 Taurus, the most unexceptional car on the planet. When I first got it, everything worked and it was fully loaded with anything your little 2002 heart desired. But little by little, things started going wrong. The light that came on when a door was ajar, came on whenever it felt like it. The a/c died last summer. The starter died last fall. And this winter, off and on, I had been having trouble with the fuel filter or pump or something of that nature but didn’t really have the money to have it fixed. As of a couple of days ago, I finally had a few hundred dollars set aside to take the car to my car guy and have him look it over. (Oh, and I had a slow leak in one of the tires.)
This morning, I went to work as usual, and was on my third dog walking visit. I couldn’t find street parking, so I decided to “borrow” a spot behind an apartment building. They were all empty and I was only going to be there 25 minutes. I went up, got the dogs, took them on their walk and we were headed back to their place when I heard sirens and smelled something burning. “Eww, must be a fire nearby.” As we got further down the street, I saw the fire truck and the smoke. It was coming from where I had parked the car. “Pleasedon’tletitbemycar.Pleasedon’tletitbemycar.” It was my car. On fire. I stood there in stunned silence while the firemen tried to get the fire out, while they pried the hood up and shot water into the engine to put out truly impressive flames.
Thank god I wasn’t in it.
Thank god it wasn’t near another car when it went up.
Thank god someone called the fire department at the first sign of smoke.
My car went from perfectly fine (as far as I knew) to fire ball in less than 20 minutes.
I think I’m done with cars. I’m bad for them.
Thanks for listening,