- In early 2024, Mark Couch was returning from a night of speedway fun with his mates
- Then, smoke from his bonnet started to fill his car, moments later his car went up in flames
- Mark then had to escape his locked car, which became an inferno
- Mark Couch, 46, shares his story below…
Barrelling down the highway towards home, I was buzzing.
The speedway had been a blast, and I was riding high on the thrill of it. My good pal Jamie and I had cheered on the sprint cars hooning around the track until we were practically hoarse.
After dropping him off, I was heading to mine, my grin a mile wide.
It was 2am in January 2024. Rain and mist were making the drive a bit of a slog, so I slowed down.
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Then, out of nowhere, my windshield completely fogged up.
“Can’t see a thing,” I muttered to myself.
Slowing to a standstill, I was shocked. A burning smell was filling the car.
Panicked, I pulled off to the side of the road.
I realised it wasn’t fog — it was smoke pouring from under the bonnet.
Then, to my horror, a bright orange flame shot out.
The engine’s roaring — and I’m about to go up with it! I thought.
Frantically, I turned the key in an attempt to switch it off. But the car revved and the motor kept on running.
Uh-oh, the electrics are gone, I realised.
Desperately, I yanked the handle of the driver’s door to free myself, but it was completely stuck.
Trying the passenger door, I realised the locks had jammed.
I was trapped.
I’m a goner if I don’t get out, I worried.
I attempted to punch through the driver’s window. Nothing.
By now, flames and smoke had entered the cab through the engine bay into the passenger side.
Kicking with both feet, I finally managed to shatter the window glass.
Heaving myself free, I knew there was nothing to do except bolt.
I barely made it 50 metres up the road before turning around to look.
The sight was a horror show — my car was a burning inferno!
Shaking, I pulled out my phone and called triple zero.
“My car’s on fire, and I’m stranded,” I said.
I explained the engine had gone up in a blaze and my car was burning before my eyes.
“Help’s on the way,” the operator assured me.
With nothing to do but wait, I caught a few moments of the fireball on film.
Phoning my wife, Brooke, I couldn’t get hold of her. Then I called Jamie.
“Mate, the HiLux is gone,” I said shakily.
“Sit tight,” he said. “I’ll be there in a flash.”
I clocked car after car driving past me. A few slowed to gawk, but no one stopped to help.
They probably think it’s stolen, I figured.
The police, fireys and ambos all turned up at once, and when the fire was out and the cops had made sure I’d not been on the booze, I was cleared to go home.
Thankfully, I’d escaped the ordeal without any injuries.
Arriving home to a shocked Brooke, she gave me the biggest hug ever.
“I’m so grateful you’re okay,” she said, close to tears.
Telling the kids — Jacob, 25, Josh, 23, Tyson, 18, and Kayla, 17 — I could see what had happened had left them shaken.
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“Losing the car was nothing compared to what it would’ve been like losing you,” they said.
Watching my precious HiLux turn to ashes before my eyes was bad enough, but losing cherished items like my speedway collector’s jacket and expensive camping gear was even worse.
I still don’t know why it happened. I do know I had a lucky escape.
While I managed to get out alive and unhurt, I’ve had a hard time coming to grips with how badly things could’ve ended up.
Replaying it over and over, I knew I was seconds from death.
Talking to a psychologist has helped me process the shock of it and also understand this is a normal response to a traumatic event.
Still, to this day, I don’t know what saved me.
Although I’m not superstitious, I reckon my nan’s St Christopher medal helped.
The medal has hung off my rear-view mirror forever, and Nanna said when she gave it to me, it would always keep me safe.
I thank my lucky stars that things didn’t end in tragedy.
Maybe it’s thanks to Nanna that I’m here today.
