I set my car on fire.

No, I'm serious. It's kind of a funny story. At least I think it's funny.

For those of you not current on the status of our vehicles, we're driving a '93 Taurus we bought from a dealer just over a month ago (Katie), and a '77 El Camino Classic we just put $1500 of repairs into (Bruno).

We bought Katie so I'd have a decent car to do the back-and-forth commute between Medicine Hat and Calgary, as Bruno is getting a bit long in the tooth. The only reason we repaired him at all was so Lisa would have something to drive when I was out of town.

Over Christmas and New Year's, we went through a moderate cold snap and we didn't drive Bruno once. He just sat in the lot behind our building, looking lost and forlorn in the snow. Katie had begun to develop a shudder while idling, and I had booked her an appointment at the mechanic. So I figured I should get Bruno started and make sure everything thing is fine.

I don't know a hell of a lot about cars, but I do know that cars left for a long time in the cold tend to end up with dead batteries. So I went downstairs, and stuck the key in to try it. Nothing. No problem. I went over to start Katie up for a boost.

Nothing.

Our new car wouldn't start. Oh dear.

So I'm all worried. Neither car will start. Our new car is broken. Oh God.

One of the other tenants comes out and gives both my cars a boost. After a minute of charging, Bruno roars into action, and I leave him sit to charge the battery. Katie takes a couple tries, but does start. I decide to take her straight over to the mechanic and not wait for the next morning.

On the way, I discover that the interior dome lights had been on overnight, and that's why she didn't start. Duh. Oh well.

So. I drop her off and walk back the couple of blocks to our place. By this time, Bruno has been running for about 40 minutes. Normally, this should be enough to charge the battery, but Bruno has a chronic alternator problem, and doesn't charge all that well. I shut him off, turn the ignition and, sure enough, just barely get enough juice to turn over the engine.

That's fine. I figure I'll just take him for a short drive, let the engine run, and he'll be fine. I'm a little worried about the battery -- if it froze while drained, I'll have to get a new one.

Anyway, so I'm a couple blocks away, and I notice what looks like exhaust smoke coming out of the floor area on the passenger side. The first thought is that something is wrong in the engine and the smoke is coming out of the heater. I stop for a minute to see if it goes away. It doesn't.

I hurray back to the parking lot, shut off the engine and pop the hood to see what's on fire.

Nothing.

There isn't any smoke in the engine block. Everything looks fine. I go around to the passenger side and open the door. Smoke is billowing out of the floor area.

I notice the rubber mat has a 'hot spot' where the rubber looks melted. The smoke is steaming out of a hole in the center. I yank the mat out. The carpet underneath has a black smoldering patch about 6 inches across. I reach up under the dashboard and pull back the carpet. The thatch-like underlay was burnt and there are actually some red coals. I yank back the underlay and the insulation mat.

The floorboard of the car has completely rusted through. There is an open crack running the entire length of the passenger floorboard. The car's insulation had been resting directly on top of the muffler. Which gets a little warm when you drive.

When thatch burns, it is damn hard to put out. The fire gets deep inside and smolders away for days, but can burst into flame at any time given an influx of oxygen. I had to cut out everything on the passenger side to prevent the whole car from bursting into flames.

And you know the funny thing? I couldn't stop laughing. It was so ludicrous! Lisa didn't think it was so funny. Neither did my Mom. Dad laughed, as did the guys at work. I figure it must be a male thing.

Laugh at my car

The New Year!

Anything neat happen lately?

Take me home, big fella