Cars and other disasters

Last night I took Oldest Kid to youth group over at our church. I was driving our older car, a red wagon referred to formally as Radio Flyer, and less formally as "that piece of cr*p." I dropped her off at youth group, then drove over to the bookstore. As I was heading back to the church, the battery light came on and the lights went dim. I managed to get into the church parking lot, turned off the car, and tried turning it on again. It just clicked pitifully. So I called Vulcan Husband to rescue me (fortunately the car didn't strand me on the side of the road, since I don't have a cell phone). He managed to get it working, and I drove very close behind him to run interference, since the lights were really dim. We drove it over to our mechanic, but just as we pulled into that parking lot the car started smoking. I thought maybe we'd killed it entirely. But nope, the mechanic called today and told us it was just the alternator (and a belt).

Part of me is pleased, and part of me is disappointed. A little part of me wishes the whole engine would go so we could just get rid of that stupid car. It's never been reliable, and now, with 144,000 miles on it, it's less reliable than ever. But when you're married to the World's Cheapest Husband, you can pretty much expect to drive a car until it blows up. So the car has been repaired, and will live to strand me another day...