Was it luck that no one was hurt, or that I had taken the time to remove most of the tools the night before? Was it fortunate circumstance that this fire didn't occur the day before during a long drive from Point Loma to Escondido with the van fully loaded? Or was this what we call a heap of God Stories, all rolled into one? I believe the latter...

This God Story began as one of life's downs, mechanical problems with my work vehicle. I had been working hard and trying to ignore the needs of my van. It had been running bad for quite a while, and was continuing to get worse. I forced myself to scheduled a day off to take it to a mechanic down in Santee. I spent several hours the night before removing all the tools and cleaning out the van, partially because I had no idea how long it would be in the shop, but also because I don't generally like to leave my tools with anyone. I dropped the van off at 8:00am and got a call from the mechanic about 12:30pm. He said the van's engine needed a rebuild estimated to cost $2,400. I said not to do the work and that I would come pick it up. While I was down there, the mechanic explained how bad the engine was and the methods he used to test it. He said the the engine was full of oil, suffering "blow by" and had virtually no compression. I asked him how it was still running at all and he couldn't explain it. While driving home, Andrea, my wife was following close behind and we talked by cell phone about the dilemma. What were our choices? We couldn't afford the rebuild. I would call around for engines, find help to do the work, maybe take a loss and try to trade it in. We both commented on this long journey back up to Escondido that things looked grim, but mentioned that the last time I had severe vehicle problems, my recently departed father helped me acquire the van, and that he would help us through this tough time as well. As I pulled off the freeway and stopped, Andrea drove past and my van stalled. It wouldn't restart, and that had never happened. I waited for an opening and pushed my van out of the intersection, down the incline, and coasted to a stop when I smelled smoke. I pulled the hood release, jumped out and lifted the hood to see flames in the engine. Andrea had turned around and parked behind and was approaching on foot when I yelled the van was on fire and to call 911. She offered a small water bottle as I asked if that would work on an oil fire. I grabbed a bag of drywall powder and tried to fling the powder into the flame, but wasn't successful. The hood dropped down and the fire began to grow rapidly. I started throwing everything from the van out onto the ground, when a passerby offered a fire extinguisher. The hood was too hot to lift, so I aimed the extinguisher on the fire through the wheel well and then the radiator grill with no apparent luck as the smoke was now thick black and choking me. I handed back the extinguisher and returned to remove more from the van as Andrea was on the phone with the 911 operator and yelling at me to stay out of the van. The fire had now burned through the engine cover and was spreading fast. Andrea suggested we back up the car as far as possible and sit in it for shelter in case the van blew up. The fire department showed up, after the van was fully engulfed, with all but one window blown out, and casually began drenching the flames. I was insured, for the loss of the van, but not any of the tools. I received a check 12 days later for more than I had hoped. Enough to possibly buy a better van, designed to carry more weight. The search is on. Thank you God, thank you Dad, and thank you to all my angel friends.

Click on links below for views of the destruction...