Some events mark you for life.
One for me was a '72 Charger w 400/727 repeatedly dying at lights and in turn lanes in hot weather, which turned out to be the reluctor, aptly named.
Nothing like Chevy and Ford guys flipping you off in your dead Mopar, luckily I wasn't cited for "defective equipment".
Later, a Mallory Unilite "sh*t the bed" in my Roadrunner.
That car was possessed anyway, but the Unilite didn't help.
One night, hanging out at a burger place back in the cruising days, this gorgeous - and inebriated - blonde "needed a ride" and I was like OMG, thank you God, but the car wouldn't start. Got me there just fine, but now wouldn't start.
So she took a ride from a friend of my Greg on the back of a GSXR, and he dated her for a couple years til things got super ugly, so better him than me, the car saved me.
The only icing on the cake I could think of with a dead car situation like that are when a gorgeous gal in a Camaro drives by and asks if you "need a jump", make sure to use this situation to your advantage before your Mopar pride makes you decline the offer.