la diabla blanca, indeed

You can take a sweet Vanagon out of Southern California, but you can't take Southern California out of a sweet Vanagon.



Yesterday morning, our stepchild of a vehicle decided she had had enough of below freezing temperatures and set herself on fire. Or I would rather join my thoughts with my brother-in-laws....she was being translated.



Whatever the reason for it, it happened and it's over.



The kids are safe.



And once again, I was the person in charge of it when something went wrong.



I swear it's never on purpose.



I had gone out and started up the van to warm it up, as per my usual morning routine.



Ten minutes later, I was outside getting the kids all buckled-up, ready to take Corgan to school.



I felt the rpm's drop and looked up toward the gauges, to see the needle drop all the way down, and the van died. I thought that it was because of the cold weather. Our van preferred the warmer weather.



I turned back around to pick up Blake's blanket off the floor of the van and noticed the black smoke billowing out the back end.



I then opened the sliding door and stuck my head out and looked towards the back by the tail pipe. And what do my eyes behold? Why, pretty orange flames licking the bumper of the van!



"Children," I say, "it's time to go inside. Quickly now."



Er, I mean, it was actually more like, "Holy shhhht...! Get outa the van now!"



I had 911 on the cell phone before we even got to the back door.



I chat with the lovely dispatch for just a bit, and she sends our town's finest to put out the now raging fire going on inside what is quickly becoming the shell of our van.



And that's basically it.



It's totaled. We only had liability on it. So we'll get from it whatever the salvage yard will give us.



Uncle Sam's tax return couldn't be coming at a more convenient time.



Aaron was at work fifty minutes away, he saw the beautiful mess when he got home. My updates and descriptions to him really didn't/couldn't paint the picture of what he saw in person.



We are at the point of laughing at our ever cursed life with anything with four wheels. We are also counting our blessings and being grateful for how it all went up in smoke. The what if's are enough to make you cry.

What if I was driving down the road?

What if I had ran back in the house for something forgotten?

What if the whole freakin' van blew up before I got the kids out?



But none of those things happened and all is well. After trials and tribulations, blessings are poured out of heaven. So we'll wait for those while we look once again for another Vanagon.

What?

You didn't think we'd get an minivan, did you?

That's crazy talk right there.

Here's just two photos of our blessed van during more happy times.






R.I.P. Diabla Blanca.