Uh Oh

The car was finally running on most cylinders again. I have no idea how the people who changed the oil shattered the insulator on one of the plugs, but all the wires and all the plugs now were new, and mostly working. I knew I'd have to do the coils next, but I could probably get back to California before I had to do that.
It was dark, because it was night. I had just left Albuquerque, and was flying along, up and over the Continental Divide, burning the rest of the soot and varnish out of the cylinders with the technique embodying elegance and refinement called the Italian Tune-Up. This sacred art involves pushing the engine along close to the red line to keep the cylinders nice and hot inside, like an oven on the self-cleaning cycle. The engine was sounding better by the minute, and I was happy to finally be under way home. Only two or three more days, and I'd be back.
And then there was a loud noise, and something was flapping around under the hood. I started to slow the car down, trying to figure out if I had hit something or if something had broken. And then the dash lights started coming on, the battery light, the engine light, and the temperature was through the roof. I pulled off the road, onto the shoulder, and shut it down.
 I opened the hood, expecting the worst. But what I found was so innocent I laughed. One of the accessory belts had broken, and had knocked the other off the pulleys. Belts are easy. I called for a tow into Gallup, which at 70 miles away was both the closest city with an auto shop and just barely within the tow limit I had with AAA. A few hours later I was checked into a hotel for the night, the car stashed at an abandoned gas station sharing a parking lot, and I was asleep.