This beautiful moment is brought to you by a grammar school, a Dodge van, and some smoke. 
Yesterday, I attended a meeting at one of the local grammar schools.  As I rolled into the parking lot, I smelled something burning.  Two thoughts came to the mind.  One being that the cafeteria really screwed up during lunch time.  The other was the horrid possibility that the school was on fire.  So I parked the Beetle and waited a bit, looking out the back window, wondering if it’s safe to be here.  When no teachers or children ran out of the school, I assumed it was safe to venture in for the meeting.
As I walked through the parking lot, I smelled it again.  But this time, I noticed smoke floating out the open windows of a Dodge van.  I step a bit closer and peek inside, now wondering if someone is gutsy enough to light up a joint on the school grounds where the police patrol. 
But no one is sitting there. 
Holy crap, this car is on fire!
I quickly scuttled to the main entrance of the school and pound on the door bell.  When I don’t hear the buzzing of the door being unlocked, I frantically mash the bell again.  I fling the door open and the front desk staff are looking at me questionably.
“Excuse me,” I say politely, “but there’s a silver Dodge van out there with smoke coming out of the windows. ” 
The front desk staff look at me gravely.  The two kids in trouble who are awaiting their fate, stop talking and pay attention. 
I explained the ordeal again as the secretary gets on the phone, and I give the make and model and license plate number.  
The police do arrive, and the smoke can now be seen from inside the school as it grows from a steady stream to puffy white clouds. 

I attend my meeting and don’t mention there was a car on fire in the parking lot.  Afterwards, I learned the cause was a disregarded cigarette, which burned a large hole in the ashtray. 
“Thank God you came along when you did,” the secretary said as I signed out of the visitor’s log.

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