One happened when I worked there, in the CM parking lot. A TR7, lucky for me not close to my car but it did take out a few around it. I still remember walking past the burned out hulk and its damaged neighbors on my way out.
Oh, geez! Of course it was a Triumph! I drove a lightly used 1970 Triumph Spitfire
(an earlier sister of the TR7) for a year or two, and I still have mental trauma from that experience many decades later. The entire British car industry died at the hands of Lucas Electrics Co., and my old Spitfire was no exception. It's a minor miracle it never caught fire, although there were plenty of blown fuses and relays and the smell of electrical smoke.
It's sole redeeming quality was that it
looked so damn good! I cut a rather dashing figure in it behind the wheel, as anyone would in a Triumph with the top down. I was investing heavily in cable knit tennis sweaters at that time, and my goal was to pull up to every stoplight looking like I was posing for a magazine ad for something British and/or tasteful. Or maybe just an ad for cable knit tennis sweaters.
This isn't my car, but it's the same make/model/year and in the same deep burgundy color and wood steering wheel. But Lucas Electrics and their wiring for all Triumph's had to ruin it for everybody, not least of which the British taxpayer.
And this isn't a picture of me in my Triumph days, but it's remarkably close for an 8 second Google search. And the vibe I was going for when driving my Spitfire is spot on.
Dammit, if it weren't for awful electrical systems in British sports cars, my life would have been
PERFECT! 
