BUS gets Pulled Over by a Fire Truck as Flames Shoot out of Engine and citizens track using 911

A bus nicknamed "Flames" was reported cruising down the road like the Partridge family with flames shooting out of the engine. (scanner audio included) By the time the FIRE DEPARTMENT got them pulled over, the entire team of about 20 kids are sent to the side of the road. One of the leaders complains to the officers that I'm filming.

A bus nicknamed "Flames" was reported cruising down the road like the Partridge family with flames shooting out of the engine. (scanner audio included) By the time the FIRE DEPARTMENT got them pulled over, the entire team of about 20 kids are sent to the side of the road. One of the leaders complains to the officers that I'm filming.

    In the quaint town of Newport News, Virginia, where community spirit thrives and the sound of banjos fills the air, the tranquility was momentarily disrupted by a rather unexpected event: a church bus fire involving none other than the good folks from Eastern Mennonite University (EMU). Yes, you read that right. A church bus—often associated with wholesome road trips and wholesome snacks—was engulfed in flames, making for a story that would be retold over potlucks for years to come.

It all began on a fateful Wednesday afternoon when a group of enthusiastic EMU kids, armed with more energy than a double espresso, piled into their trusty church bus for what they assumed would be an uneventful trip to a local charity event. Little did they know that their adventure would soon take a fiery turn.

As the bus rolled along J Clyde Morris Blvd, the driver, affectionately known as "Coach" among the kids, noticed something strange. The engine began to cough like a cat trying to expel a hairball during a particularly lively sermon. With a shrug and a "we're Mennonites, not mechanics," Coach pressed on, blissfully unaware that the bus had other plans—plans that involved some sort of pyrotechnics.

Moments later, the bus began to emit smoke. Not the romantic, cozy kind you'd find wafting from a campfire, but rather the kind that makes you wonder if a dragon just had a barbecue. As smoke billowed out of the engine compartment, the kids were busy laughing, singing, and trying to explain to one another why they thought “The Sound of Music” was the best musical of all time.

And then, panic ensued. The bus came to a halt, and Coach’s calm demeanor was replaced with a look that could only be described as "the deer caught in headlights"—only this deer was carrying a dozen kids. Realizing that their bus was not going to be a part of any charitable giving unless it was melted down for scrap, he initiated the evacuation procedure.

In a scene reminiscent of a slapstick comedy, the kids scrambled out of the bus, some tripping over their shoelaces while others performed an impromptu interpretive dance on the pavement. They were directed to walk down J Clyde Morris Blvd, which is an interesting choice when you consider that the boulevard isn’t exactly pedestrian-friendly. But hey, at least they’d get a workout!

Meanwhile, someone had the foresight to dial 911. The operator on the other end was likely met with a cacophony of screaming children and the faint sound of Coach yelling, “Get away from the bus!” Mixed in was the sound of someone frantically searching for their lost shoe, because in times of crisis, footwear is the last thing on your mind.

As the dispatcher sent fire trucks to the scene, we can only imagine the conversation happening at the fire station. “Hey, Bob, have you ever had a bus fire that came with a side of children’s drama?” The firemen, undoubtedly entertained by the prospect of extinguishing flames and saving the day, jumped into their truck and sped off, sirens blaring.

Now, let’s talk about the fire truck. Picture this: a shiny red behemoth pulling up beside the bus, lights flashing like it was auditioning for a role in a Broadway musical. The firemen leaped out, the embodiment of coolness, with hoses and gear that must have weighed more than Coach himself. They approached the smoking bus, which was now looking less like a vehicle and more like a could-have-been contestant on a cooking show called “Burnt Offerings.”

As the firefighters battled the flames, the kids stood nearby, some continuing their debate about the merits of various musicals while others started a conga line, because, why not? It was a party, after all!

Eventually, the flames were extinguished, the bus was deemed a total loss, and the children were herded like kittens back to safety. But the true heroes of the day were the firefighters who, amid the chaos, managed to keep a straight face while dousing a church bus and saving a gaggle of giggling kids.

In the end, no one was hurt, everyone learned a valuable lesson about bus maintenance, and Coach vowed to invest in a mechanic for future trips. The kids would go home with stories of their own brush with danger, a tale that would grow taller with each retelling. “Did I mention that I leaped from the bus like an action hero?” one would say, while another would chime in, “And I was the one who called 911!”

As for the bus, it will forever be remembered as the vehicle that went out in a blaze of glory, a testament to the power of spontaneous combustion and youthful exuberance. So, if you’re ever passing through Harrisonburg and see a group of kids walking down J Clyde Morris Blvd, just remember: you might be witnessing the next generation of Mennonite heroes, all thanks to a little fire and a lot of laughter.

https://www.easternmennonite.org/