The heeler sisters often accompany the wife when she runs downstairs on errands, occassionally stopping by my door to see if I'm okay.

Been doing it a little more frequently lately, since it's been raining (rain is often accompanied by boomb-a-looms, you know). So when I heard the thundering human steps on the stairs, and the jingle of collar tags at the door, I was not surprised by the knock.

The wife. And the masked heeler.

"Your redhead has something to tell you," the wife announced sternly as I opened the door.

So I looked down at the redheaded heeler, who glanced back up with an alarmed "I didn't do it," look on her face.

"No, the other redhead," the wife said, nodding towards the tall redheaded youngest son standing a couple stairs up from the basement floor.

Almost out of sight.

What'd he do, wreck his car?

"Close. You tell him," she told our quiet son.

Ohhhh craaap. This is one I did not want to guess correctly.

Seems the little red car is sitting alongside a back street back in town. Because it no go. And it no go because he took it, and I quote, "mudbogging" through the alleys and back roads of town.

Now, this little compact car is exactly that... compact. As in, low to the ground. The scenes where movie and tv characters drive little cars underneath semi trailers? This car could do that.

Which means, of course, it doesn't take much water to drown the thing. And youngest son, with a friend (of course) had been bombing around town, splashing the little car through all the mud puddles they could find. Until they found one that drowned the poor thing.

Actually not a totally surprising reaction for a teen. It has been probably eight years since we had enough precip to create big puddles. This is certainly the first real opportunity since he learned to drive a couple years ago to go splashing.

Accomplice's father has towed the car out of the urban lake, and they left it alongside the road, on a back lane between one of the trailer courts and the industrial part of town. And brought youngest son home.

Youngest son was unwilling to come tell me himself. He insisted his mother come along as backup and protection.

Which is strange, really. Yes, I lose my temper (comes with the red hair, I'm told). But almost always over little stuff. Big problems tend to engage the brain instead of the gut, evaluating alternatives and seeking solutions.

And killing the messenger is rarely a solution the brain considers. That response comes with the smaller annoyances in life that the gut deals with.

Anyway, I run through and explain all the possibilities I can think of with his vehicle.

If he's lucky, they just got water on the points or distributor cap (if it is old enough to have such), and it'll work just fine when dry.

Or, worst case scenario, water up the air intake, through the filter, down the carburetor and into the cylinders. Major labor costs to tear it apart and dry out. Assuming he didn't try to run the engine in that condition and ruin it completely.

He said he didn't.

Third scenario? Filled the exhaust with water and plugged it, forcing the engine to stall. Maybe easy to fix. Maybe not.

He tells us it was deep enough to run water a half-inch deep in over the floor boards. Jeeeez. I'm expecting expensive repairs.

(Which has a bright side. His Hadhafang finally arrived this week. Lovely sword, although with a design flaw in the hilt. And sharrrp! I was already calculating how I could confiscate it to pay for vehicle repairs.)

But either way, we need a mechanic's opinion. And I'm not willing to go back and try to start the thing, lest it be scenario two. Nor are we going to tow it ourselves, since that can damage some vehicles if not done properly, particularly little foreign ones.

The good news?

The little red Subaru is sitting along a street not two blocks from our mechanic's shop. It'll be a short tow for AAA.

So wife and youngest son headed into town last night to meet the tow truck at the scene of the drowning. Subaru's wheels were locked sideways, so son had to start the car ignition to engage the power steering and straighten them. Wife reports the car backfired a huge shot of water out the exhaust in that brief second or two. And gallons more drained out when the tow operator lifted the front end. We may have scenario three.

No fish in the front seat, near as she could tell.

I'm waiting to hear what the mechanic has to say...