When I was in high school I rocked the minivan. A 1993 Mercury Villager with 180,000 miles, no cruise control, faulty speedometer, and 15 miles to the gallon. But it had a sunroof and fit all my friends and that was all I really needed, until finally it failed inspection because the floor had rotted away under the passenger side and was suspended by vinyl and foam. 

I also loved fire. My friends and I would go out into the woods with road flares and gasoline and figure out the biggest fire we could light without alerting the town's three person volunteer fire department. Want to have a good time New Hampshire style? Get a giant plush Tweety Bird doll, put it on a raft in your friend's fishpond, wrap practice arrows with socks, douse 'em all in white gas, and play fire arrow target practice until the pond catches on fire and you've boiled your own dinner.

But like barbecue sauce and orange juice, fire and cars are two things that I love that don't mix well together. In this week's Comedy Goldmine, goons share stories and pictures about unfortunate confluences of the two.


First, some back story: My girlfriend needed some work done on her car that our normal mechanic said the dealership would have to take care of (not sure why exactly), so she spent the better part of this afternoon at the local VW outlet (Walker VW in New Orleans for anyone who's wondering) waiting for them to tell her what was wrong with her car. After about three hours, she finally talks them into just giving her a loaner car so she could leave, and they give her the keys to a 2006 Jetta. She got in the car and drove home without incident.

I got off work early today so my girlfriend and I got home around the same time. We talked for a few minutes, then she left to go grocery shopping while I changed out of my work clothes to take the dog for a walk. Girlfriend walked out, about a minute passed, then she burst back in and screamed, "My fucking loaner car is on fire!"

I immediately kenneled the dog and ran outside, and sure enough the car has smoke billowing out from under the hood, which eventually turned into a pretty good sized flame coming off of the hood itself (I'd estimate it was about 3' off of the car). Apparently the fire had started out of nowhere during the few minutes between when she walked in and walked back out, and a guy who happened to be walking by had called 911. After I had stood there watching and trying to think of something intelligent to do for a minute, I ran inside and got my camera just as the fire department was showing up:

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