A few weekends ago, my husband and I went to Trader Joe’s for some noshes. We love the “Chevalier Noir” cookies.. but I digress.
There was a bit of a back-up getting into the parking lot, and then we saw why. A large ladder truck was on site from the fire department putting out a Ford Explorer that had somehow caught fire. A large crowd was gathered around watching, some with cameras , others holding their children by the hand trying to get to their cars.
Around here, we call such flaming vehicles “car-b-ques”. You will hear this term on the traffic reports on the radio whenever there’s a car fire.
I hate Fords. Any Ford product is on my Shitlist. My prejudice against Fords started in the 1970’s when it was discovered that an unknown ability of the Pinto was that it would burst into flames when struck from behind. This was apparently because of the construction or location of the gasoline tank. I remember seeing some sort of documentary on this and how the fault was due to the beancounters figuring that it was cheaper to pay the occasional lawsuit than to fix the problem on thousands of cars. I was outraged by this and vowed to NEVER buy a Ford.
Our friend Dave who has colorful names for everything calls the Ford Explorer the “Ford Exploder”. He was once a Ford owner and vows never again.
Other car-b-ques I have known have been old Volkswagen beetles (70’s vintage) and Datsun (now Nissan for the young folk) Z-cars (from the 80’s or 90’s I think). We are personally acquainted with two people who parked their Z cars to go to the store and upon coming out, discovered their cars in flames. Good thing they were not sitting in their cars at the time; good thing no children were in the car. I don’t know what the problem was with these Z’s or how it was addressed.
The burning Volkswagen started because the fuel line was too close to some heat source in the engine compartment and somehow ignited.
The last car-b-que I am personally acquainted with was when a burning van sitting at the top of a very steep hill rolled downhill and hit my mother’s car. Ironically it was a burning Volkswagen van and my mother’s car was the Ford! Her car’s hood was pretty scorched and major repairs were done, but it was fixed. My mother was in the car when the van crashed into it, so she needed some repairs, too.