Odds are, 7-year-old Nino Welcome will never drive a car because of a rare, debilitating disease that confines him to a wheelchair.

On top of that, early Thursday morning an unknown vandal torched the car he loved.

Someone popped open a small vent window of the family's classic Mustang, tossed in some fireworks and fled.

The car was parked in the driveway of Nino's parents, Brett and Tonia Welcome.

The orange-and-black 1970 Mach I Ford Mustang had been restored by Nino's grandfather, Fred Welcome of Ozark, who gave it to the boy on his birthday in May.

The Mustang was a big part of the boy's life.

"It occupies his mind day and night," says, Brett, 44, his dad.

I stand in the driveway next to the car's ruins. It still smells like an early-morning smoldering campfire. The breeze picks up and white flakes dance off the car.

"When I get home from work he asks me if we need to go to the store. He asks, 'Can we take the Mustang?'" Welcome says.

The bedtime adventure stories Brett and Tonia tell at night always include a plot point involving the Mustang.

Nino recently received a new wheelchair, which he had painted orange and black, like the car.

Nino calls his new wheels "Mach II."

Brett and Tonia had planned to wait to tell Nino what happened to the car.

They had put a tarp over the charred remains when they took their son to physical therapy Thursday.

But when he returned, he asked his parents why the tarp was there.

"We told him that sometimes bad people do bad things," Welcome says. "And that we are going to put it in the shop and get it back new and improved."

That is not necessarily true. It is too early to tell if the car can be salvaged. Plan B would be to buy a similar car.

Nino suffers from Lesch-Nyhan syndrome, a rare condition that occurs almost exclusively in males. It is characterized by neurological and behavioral abnormalities and the overproduction of uric acid. Excess uric acid can build up under the skin and cause gouty arthritis and kidney and bladder stones.

The common symptoms include involuntary muscle movements, such as tensing and jerking movements and flailing limbs. People with Lesch-Nyhan usually cannot walk, require assistance sitting, and generally use a wheelchair.

One odd effect, Welcome tells me, is that those with the disease, including his son, try to injure themselves when under stress.

One of the things Nino does, for example, is bite his own lip when he feels stressed.

"If you tell someone with the syndrome to not touch a hot burner on the stove, their mind will say 'don't touch it' but their arm will involuntarily reach out to touch it," Welcome says.

Thus far, Nino has taken the news in stride.

"He's been a real trouper," his dad tells me.

He and his wife were still trying to discover how much of the loss their insurance will cover, if any. The car is still covered by Nino's grandfather.

Welcome estimates that it is worth $30,000 to $40,000.

On the back of the car, is an emblem that says "DUH-HUH."

Not being a gearhead, I ask what it means.

It's not car lingo, Welcome tells me. It was just his father being the character he is.

It is a phrase Fred Welcome says to his children and grandchildren when they don't appear to understand something that, in his estimation, should easily be grasped.

When Welcome tells me this, I am angry all over again at whoever burned the car.

It was parked in the driveway because the garage is full in anticipation of a yard sale.

About 3:35 a.m., the family dog Adrian raised a ruckus, Welcome says. A retired police officer and his son — they live down the street — were approaching the ramp to the front door.

The son told Welcome that he had spotted a glow from inside the car.

Welcome rushed outside and it first appeared to him that the fire was confined to Nino's Batman car seat.

He was going to try to pull it out of the car when he realized the fire had spread well beyond the car seat.

"It was at that point that it registered that I was hearing fireworks," he says. "Bang! Bang!

"It did not occur to me to go and grab the fire hose — maybe because it was 3:30 a.m.

"Whatever time it took me to run to the kitchen and get a half-a-jug of water, by the time I got back to the fire it had gotten to the flammable foam, or whatever, and flames were coming out of the car. The entire interior was engulfed.

"At that point, my wife came out and started screaming," he says.

Their older son, Dante, 16, also came outside. Soon, neighbors appeared.

"And then it occurs to me that the car might explode," he says.

He ordered everyone to get away from the car.

The car did not explode. The fire department put out the blaze.

Brett is holding out hope that the 8-cylinder 351 engine is salvageable.

Springfield fire marshal Ben Basham was at the house investigating about 3 p.m. Thursday.

He found remnants of fireworks in the car and told the Welcomes that — like most arson investigations — it will be difficult to eventually prosecute someone based on the physical evidence. It typically takes someone coming forward with information.

Cara Erwin, fire department spokeswoman, tells me the fire was intentionally set and the case will be suspended unless there is more information.

"I just want whoever did this caught," says Tonia Welcome.

Not only was it senseless act, she says, but a dangerous one, as well.

Dante's car, parked farther up the driveway, could have caught fire. In fact, the house could have caught fire.

Brett Welcome sells construction equipment and also is co-owner with Gabe Wouk of Springfield Fight Club. Both have black belts in Brazilian jiu-jitsu.

I don't know very much jiu-jitsu in general or Brazilian jiu-jitsu in particular.

But I do like to imagine how it might be applied in full force to the person who caused all this needless pain.

These are the views of Steve Pokin, the News-Leader's columnist. Pokin has been at the paper five years and over the course of his career has covered just about everything — from courts and cops to features and fitness. He can be reached at 836-1253, spokin@gannett.com, on Twitter @stevepokinNL or by mail at 651 N. Boonville, Springfield, MO 65806.