The ultimate damage to the Dart was surprisingly minor: one dead front tire, the left rear brake drum filled with differential lube that dripped out of the axle vent, and relatively insignificant dents and dings here and there. None of the chrome trim was bent; the paint wasn't scratched; and the door-mounted mirror, which had been buried in the dirt, wasn't even knocked out of alignment. In fact, the most annoying result was that my ever-present tool pouch, which was on the back floor, punched through the previously pristine headliner, right about where the C-pillar received its ding on the outside. I'm awfully fond of that dent, though, and whatever caused it actually kept the car from rolling all the way over.
When the wrecker pulled up to her house with the Dart on the hook, Nina looked at me, looked at the car, innocently (but pointedly) asked if I had a problem with the brakes, and mercifully kept her I-told-you-so comments to herself. So that's where this all started, and here's where it ends. The good news is, with the new brakes and suspension, Nina is now quite happy to drive the Dart anywhere, anytime. That's also the bad news, since now it looks like I've gotta go and marry her so I can keep driving it too!