My first car was possessed by a benevolent soul. There were a few small incidents, but the one that convinced me was a big one.
My ex-husband was a lunatic. One evening he was driving down a narrow two lane road, and decided it was a good time to have an argument. The angrier he got, the faster he drove. The faster he drove, the more afraid I got. I was pleading for him to slow down, which only seemed to make him angrier. By the time he got up to about 120 mph, I was hysterical. I saw headlights up the road, and let out a blood curdling scream. Just then, the engine stopped. No sputtering. Just stopped, like someone had turned off the key. But no one had. The car quickly but smoothly glided to a stop, as though he was using the break. But he wasn’t. I looked down, and he was frantically pumping the accelerator. As the other car approached, he jerked the steering wheel to the left, but the car kept going straight, until it stopped. The other car sailed past us, and there we sat in the dark. He tried to restart the car, but got nothing. We had to have the car towed. By this time, he was more afraid than I was. He seemed to be tired of arguing.
It took the mechanic about a week to look it over. It started right up. He couldn’t find anything wrong with it. The engine never cut out like that again.
Thank you for sharing that story.
Wow! Before the end, I was going to guess it threw a rod through the block and busted the steering linkage and bent a brake line.
But then it would not have started back up.