People who come up to my garden wonder why I keep an old tire on which I’ve made a seat. Ah well, there’s a tale everywhere, isn’t there?
It happened some years ago, and I must say that watching your car going up in flames isn’t a pretty sight, and as my wife and I watched her car on fire that day, we felt a deep sense of sorrow. It had been a short circuit, and the flames we had battled had gone sky high.
The mechanic who came the next day to look at the remains of the car had a smile on his face as he met me.
“What’s there to smile?” I asked angrily. “The car is a write-off,” he said.
“So why the smile?” I asked again, even more annoyed.
“You’re alive, sir!” he said. “Weren’t you driving?”
“No,” I said, “My wife was. I came later.”
“Then madam is a very lucky woman!” he said, “Because I noticed they couldn’t open the bonnet. Sir, when the bonnet is stuck, normally the flames cannot be contained and the flames spread like wildfire underneath your dashboard to the seats and then explode when the flames reach the petrol tank; it’s boom!”