Death of a Micro Machine

This past weekend was Holiday Purgatory for us. 4 Christmas parties over 2 days, all of them 75+ miles from home. In 2 different directions.
The first 3 are near each other- we did those Saturday, stayed with my mom Saturday night, then headed up to the 4th party on Sunday. It's about 75 miles away to the first 3. Then 75 miles from there to the next party. Then, from there, about 85 miles back home.

Because we drive two tiny cars, we took 2 cars this time. The boys rocked the micromachine, and the girls rocked the gold whatever. I've never nick-named my car. So on the way home from party number 4, Spouse called roughly 25 miles from home. The conversation went something like this.

Spouse: Are we close to home?

Me: About 20 minutes, why, you need a bathroom?

Spouse: No, car is making a funny noise, I think I should OH FUCK THE CAR JUST WENT!!

At this point, I glanced back in the rear-view mirror to see him swerving off to the side, and sparks shooting out from under the car.

Oh. Fuck. Me.

Girls freaked out, I told Spouse I'd turn around at the next exit, and come back behind him, because I was quarter of a mile ahead of him. He called back a few minutes later- his engine blew, something blew OFF the engine (hence the sparks I saw as it shot out the bottom of his car and down the road), and it was on fire, though he got it put out.

We waited about 30 minutes for a tow truck, and got it home, but it's fucked. It's not worth the cost to drop an engine in, so we're car shopping this week.

Anyone got an amazing deal on an awesome fucking car they'll sell for the $20 we have in our checking account?


No?

Shocking. :D