Thursday, March 01, 2007

And just when I didn't think it could get any worse

my 1993 Mercury Villager mini-van caught fire last night while driving home the members of Each One (son's band). Fortunately it was discovered at the last stop and a neighbor was present with a fire extinquisher. The fire was underneath it in the vicinity of the exhaust system.

This could not have happened at a worse time--with my husband only working three day weeks I have no idea where to go from here.

Okay whining over. For now.

Later on in the day . . .

The husband took the whole thing better than I expected him to. He's currently out with the tow truck driver picking up the van and dropping it off at the mechanic's shop. We went out this morning and it started right up, the oil was normal, the lights worked, the heater worked, etc.

"I think we could drive it--" he started to say

"Are you nuts? The entire bottom side of this thing was engulfed in flames last night!" I said.

"But . . ."

"But nothing! Gary--this isn't just a little knock in the engine--this is flames! You know--that could have exploded and hurt somebody kind of dangerous?"

I realized he was grinning at that point. He loves to set me up to go off like that. He thinks it's cute.

The mechanic will look at it tomorrow. The lady who runs the front office wondered if it could have just been a lose fuel line. I'm no mechanic, but . . . wouldn't I have noticed a sharp drop in fuel levels?

Even later than that . . .

My husband followed the tow truck driver to the mechanic's. While there--in the parking lot at the mechanic's shop--the bronco promptly died and refused all resuscitation attempts.

I haven't read this part of the plot before--Is this where God jumps out from behind a tree with the keys to a new car? Or is this the part where he smiles sagely and assures me that he has not yet begun to test my faith?



Julie Carter said...

I can't speak to faith, but I can hope that at least one of those dratted vehicles is just being temperamental and it's a minor thing. Still, I'm definitely pulling for the God-with-car-keys scenario!

Constance said...

Thank you for the nice comment that you left me on Andrew's 'Love, Honor and Dismay' blog. I appreciated it.

And to answer your question : no, he and I were not in contact during those ten days.

The day he and I had had our falling out he told me that he "was in so much pain emotionally, and eating cup of soup out of a package because he had no money."

He had simultaneously told a mutual friend that he was "borderline suicidal, and that if the house went into foreclosure that he was done."

(that is what prompted my action.)

Was I a fool ? Yes.
At the time, I was crazy with anxiety ad worry for him. Yes, he had hurt me. Yes he had deceived me and played me for a gullible fool.

But I ignored all that because I thought he was just stressed out and not himself.
(I couldn't fathom the sweet man I THOUGHT I had known had turned into such a cruel animal. I thought all he neede was to have his stress level reduced, and things would be okay again...)

I thought that if I had done NOTHING to help (when I had the wherewithal) and he DID committ suicide, I never would have been able to live with myself.

So... Was I wrong ? Yeah. Hindsight is always 20/20. Should have/would have/could have/if only...

Anyway, hope you are having a good week, and thank you again for your thoughtful comment.

Scotty said...

Car fires can be such a pain in the butt; sorry to hear the bad news,and I hope it's something relatively easy and inexpensive to fix.
How come I wasn't called? 1800-Scotty :-)

Mary O. Paddock said...

Hi Julie--
Thanks. Me too!

Hello Annie. Thanks for stopping by. I've visited your site and you are well-named. Best of luck with everything.

Scotty--You know, I thought about calling you, but I give terrible directions and I just knew I'd get you lost. I can't ever remember whether to tell people to go left or a right at the Gulf of Mexico.