'The slim slice of smoke slithering up'

The slim slice of smoke slithering up.

I was almost to Paris when I saw the slim slice of smoke slithering up. It was coming from the engine of this two doored, practically ancient, Citroen.

This better just be a dead leaf burning inside of the engine or something, I thought.

I flick my right side turn signal on while I pull over on a lifeless French road. I switch my eyes from the road towards the dashboard. The car tells me it’s well over heated. I give it the finger. I put the gear in park and turn the engine off. My plan was to let the car rest and to pray that it’ll be magically fixed in thirty minutes when I start it up again. My right hand clicks my seatbelt off while my left hand pulls it to the side.