Where There is Smoke...

...trust, there is fire.

Tim and I have been the owner of a 1993 Chevy Corsica for quite sometime. It started to have some troubles in March 2004. We decided it was time to buy a new car. We stored the car in our garage until this week when we got it in working condition to drive to North Dakota. My father is a skilled mechanic and was going to continue to work on it and sell the car.

I was following Tim from Iowa to North Dakota. My car was filled with teaching supplies that will be stored at my parents home until next fall when I search for a teaching job. We thought this was the perfect plan. However, we had made it through half of eastern Minnesota when Tim realized that his beloved Corsica was smoking and making some unfortunate sounds. We pulled off at a gas station to assess the situation.

Yes. There was smoke.

Tim gave me the task of looking under the hood when he slightly lifted the hood. I gave a peak.

Yes. There was fire.

I informed Tim of the flames and he ran to get a fire extinguisher from the store clerk. I moved away from the vehicle. All I could imagine was the scene from most action movies when the car blows up. We got the flames out and unplugged the battery. Tim had been using my purse as an oven/car mitt when opening the heated hood. So much for the lovely cargo khaki purse. We had to leave the Corsica there until tomorrow and Tim and my father will go and get it.