I was woken at four this morning by a car exploding not twenty feet from my bed. Really.
I'm in a ground floor flat, and my bedroom window looks out onto some off-road parking. One of the cars was on fire. It wasn't that big an explosion - it wasn't the petrol tank cooking off or anything. But something went "bang", and it was loud enough to wake me.
Five minutes later the Fire Brigade pitched up, and the excitement was over. By this time, the car was gutted.
My first thought was that someone had torched it - either it was a vandal, someone holding a serious grudge, or perhaps a joyrider-come-arsonist. But in fact, the car's owner come out, and explained that he'd been having trouble with the electrics. It had been spontaneously starting itself up the previous day! So, the car probably set itself on fire, which is a scary thought.
There's something special about four in the morning. If I wake up before then, I can get back to sleep without too much difficulty. But after four, that's it, I'm awake.
Until ten minutes before the alarm goes off, that is.Posted to Apropos of nothing by Simon Brunning at November 19, 2003 10:53 AM