Don the dad vs Tesco Rescue

Pre-UK, my gorgeous red fiat seicento 1100 aka My-hot-car was bruised and scarred on all sides. None of which was my fault. As a welcome-home present to me, Don (the dad) gave her a face-lift and a body-spray. Within her sleek and radiant exterior, he filled her soul with music (mp 3 player - yay). Knowing my baby as I do, however, I could sense something was wrong. The smell of burning and strange noises were a clue. On my way to don's work yesterday to have the girl checked out, she died on me. At the 4/5 lane pavilion intersection. Not perfect, but could have been worse. While waiting for Don the great patriarch and rescuer of women, "Aubrey" a stranger in an old-school jeep stopped behind me to wait with me, "you never know what can happen round here" How to tell the man he was making me extremely uncomfortable? Fortunately the team arrived shortly: 2 civil engineers, a car mechanic, a jeep and a pickuptruck later... everything was taken care of, and I, safely deposited at my brother's house to attempt reading Charlotte Bronte in the midst of two small children. How apt.