Blaze of glory (sigh).

So, my cars are always very emphatic in whatever they do, especially when they decide they need some tender lovin' care from the mechanic. Today, I was driving and Vanessa (my 1989 Crown Victoria LTD is named Vanessa, just so you know), and she got a little hot under the collar. I was going down the street, and suddenly my stereo quit on me. The music just disappeared, the display screen was blank, and I was cruising in silence. And then, my car just shut off. The good news was my stereo came back on. Still trying to figure that one out. So I pulled over to the side of the road, popped the hood and took a look. I quickly noticed flames coming out of the alternator, something that I was fairly certain wasn't supposed to be happening. A guy driving by on his bike (pedal bike, not motorcycle)(though it was a bike that was made to look like a chopper, which was kinda neat) helped me to put it out. Now Vanessa is sitting at Garland's autobody being repaired, hopefully by tomorrow, but maybe not until Monday, which is fine. I can survive that long, no worries.
This beats the last time my car broke down on the side of the road. It was a 1978 Chevrolet Impala, affectionately known as Pips. Sadly, Pips decided that it was time to make leave of this mortal coil, but he wanted to be known (I just realised that Pips was a guy...I had never really thought of it before, but he was way to rough and tumble to be a lady...ugly too) for his spectacular send off, so he did not go quietly into the night. In fact, he built up to it for a few months. It started with a ticking in the engine. Tick-tick-tick-tick, going faster as I sped up tickticktickticktick. That was mildly entertaining and worrisome. And then, the tick began to talk. TICK-TICK-TICK-TICK-TICK until it became so bad that the car was shaking and almost hopping around. Peter was driving near me, and he said that he could hear Pips in his vehicle (driving his Dodge Durango I do believe) above the sound of his stereo. For my part, I was enjoying the free massage. And then the smoke started pouring out. There was no actual fire, but enough smoke to compensate. So we towed it to my house, and I got it towed away by a wrecker, and a few days (hours? I can't remember) later Vanessa came into the picture.
Then there was the time my alternator belt broke on the highway. The people who were following us decided to drive on by without stopping to help or anything. That was kind of him (it was Anthony "Growper" Olson, the new intern at RockPointe (formerly Bow Valley Country HIlls) Church). I was left to push the car with the help of Tom Ross, while Adelou (a young man from Africa somewhere who does not have his licence, not even a learner's licence) steered the car. We got to the next town and replaced the belt, but that was an interesting night.
I think I hate cars now.