This wasn’t supposed to have happened. After all the Gray Lady had had her day at the spa and at 60 years old, she was running like a fine Swiss watch. Those who read last week’s column know the Gray Lady is German, a fine piece of machinery that has been a member of the family ever since my grandmother bought her in 1964 and probably put fewer than 20,000 miles on her.

For years following my grandmother death, the 220 Mercedes sedan was my father’s second car. He babied her, using it to run errands on the weekend and then when spring arrived driving her to Springfield Center, NY, a trip of about 230 miles, where she spent the summer in the garage of my former great-aunt’s home. That’s become her permanent residence, and her outings have been restricted to warm weather driving and excursions into the village or to Cooperstown about 10 miles away on Route 80.

She lived up to her reputation of dependability this spring when my son Ted removed the wad of stainless steel wool from the tailpipe and bags of mothballs from under the hood, designed to thwart critters from moving in, charged the battery and cranked her up. After vigorously pumping the gas pedal and a few coughs she settled into a rhythmic purr. The Gray Lady was ready for another season. But we had missed a few things. The Gray Lady hadn’t had her spring bath. Additionally, she needed to be inspected; the oil hadn’t been changed in about three years, her joints were creaking and the vintage antifreeze certainly should be checked before another winter in Upstate NY.

So, two weeks ago my daughter, Diana, delivered her to Bill’s Garage for her spa. She was back in the garage when Ted and I returned this past Thursday. As reliable as ever, she started right up. The driver’s door no longer screeched when opened, oil on the dip stick was golden, not that it had been gritty black, and by New York standards the Gray Lady was good to be on the highway.

The gas gage bounced between a quarter tank and reserve. On Friday we figured we were in good shape to make a run to the hardware story in Cooperstown. And, indeed, everything was running smoothly until we were about four miles to returning the Gray Lady to her berth. Now, as the road rose the gas gage dipped. The Lady seemed to have lost her zip and we considered our options of who to call if we ran out of gas. Our goal at first was to get to the four corner station at the intersection of Route 20 and 80 where we hoped to find the Lady’s preferred libation, ethanol-free gasoline.

When the four corners seemed a stretch, we turned off 80 and headed back for the garage, better that we get there than run out short of the corners.

The Lady slowed. She was sluggish although she hadn’t started sputtering, which I guessed would be the first symptom of running out of gas.

Ted pulled her up to the garage, ready to back her in when we were engulfed in a cloud of acrid smoke emanating from the front right wheel well.

Were we on fire? Do we dare park her in the garage for fear of setting the building ablaze?

I could feel the heat radiating and thought it wouldn’t be long before the tire caught fire. Then we’d really be in a mess.

Ted put the car in first to pull her away from the garage, but she wouldn’t budge. The smoking wheel refused to turn. He rocked the car from first to reverse and finally she was free.

“It has to be the brake,” said Ted. I thought it might be a bearing. But this wasn’t the time to diagnose the problem. This was the time to put out whatever was burning.

 “I’ll get the extinguisher,” said Ted. I wasn’t so sure that was a good idea.

“Let’s try water,” I said. Ted raced to get a bucket, returning with the first thing he could find, the filtered water container from the kitchen. It was a start. He splashed some water on the hub cap. It sizzled, the drops quickly turning to steam. We kept it up.

Ted got a bucket and kept splashing. Finally the smoke stopped and there was just steam. We let the Lady cool and then did a little spin the in the driveway.

“She’s rolling much better,” Ted announced. We figured it was safe to put her in the garage.

On Saturday it poured, no better time to give her a bath. We sponged her off when the rain stopped. She shined.

But before going too far, she’s going back to Bill’s for a checkup and then to the Four Corners for an ethanol-free drink.