Have a nice trip. See you next fall.

Yesterday I did something I haven't done in a very long time. And no, it wasn't write copy someone wanted to read. You're so predictable.

What I did was fall flat on my ass.

It was bound to happen. With two kids, two dogs and all the equipment that comes with them, it's no wonder the house is a virtual minefield most of the time. I would've said obstacle course, but obstacles can be overcome. In a minefield, you always have to be in a state of high alert.

Anyway, we have two extremely comfortable chairs in the living room. Right now they're covered in the powder blue slipcovers. Those are the ones we have on them when we're not using the floral ones. Clearly I lost the slipcover battle, which explains why we don't have the Elvis in Hawaii slipcovers. Or the ones with the cowboys and fire engines.

I might be getting off topic here.

Anyway, I was sitting in one of our comfy living room chairs, working on my laptop doing extensive, in-depth research into the topic of my next blogpost: Survivability Tactics & Probabilities and the Implications Of The Thermonuclear Threat.

That or I was watching Between Two Ferns. I can't remember.

At any rate, I got up to do something, and as I did I was closing my laptop and not looking down. Which was bad news for me, because there was a musical instrument in its case on the floor in front of me. My foot caught it, I lost my balance and went careening off a low bookshelf into a wall, involuntarily pirouetting like Baryshnikov and falling like a redwood all while trying desperately not to drop the laptop.

Unfortunately, not having my hands available to help right the ship, I went down like a ton of bricks. Fortunately I had a hardwood floor to cushion my fall.

The good news is I managed to stop the laptop from crashing to the floor. I was also able to hold my neck in such a way that my head didn't slam against the floor. The bad news is I'm feeling it this morning. I'm sore, scraped and bruised (which also happens to be the name of my law firm).

Having kids - well, teenagers - in the house, one thing I always notice is how resilient they are. They heal fast from almost everything: colds, injuries, hurt feelings, bad parenting. I however do not heal that fast. I fully anticipate hurting for a couple weeks while my body figures out what the hell I was thinking trying to get out of a chair.

So for the next few days, it's going to be ice packs, heating pads and Neosporin. And as long as I don't look to far to the right, my neck doesn't remind me how sore it is.

I've heard a rumor that, in some homes, there are actually dedicated spaces where you can store your belongings so they're out of the way and don't pose a risk to people walking in the house. But I'm not falling for it.

Mercury Rising

It's not often I find myself with a reason to speak highly of an insurance company. But since my auto accident a couple weeks ago, I have nothing but good to say about Mercury.

When you're in an accident, the first thought after you (hopefully) realize you're not going to the hospital, or worse, is that anything having to do with your car is going to be difficult for the foreseeable future.

I'm still here to tell you, from the moment I reported it to the Mercury claims department, everything became easy. My claims adjustor called me minutes later and explained the entire process. He had a flatbed tow truck to the scene within minutes. My rental car was ready and waiting for me at Enterprise by the time I was done filling out the paperwork at the body shop.

Since my car was totaled, I was concerned how much Mercury was going to give me for it. But they were more than fair with their offer.

I've been with Mercury for many, many years. Their customer service, in my experience, has always been exceptional. More importantly, it's been compassionate and caring. Important traits considering the high stress situations when you need to contact them.

Our family is insurance agnostic. Our auto is with Mercury, our life and homeowners with two others. We'd save money if we bundled all our policies. But while it's nice in theory, in the real world when there's pieces of my car from the freeway to the road where I finally pulled over, a couple hundred in savings doesn't matter.

Having a company like Mercury, that has proven to me I can rely on them, is much more important.

The only unfortunate part of the whole experience is while I was looking for a visual to go with the title of this post, I found this poster for a Bruce Willis movie of the same name.

From the reviews I read, I'm pretty sure you enjoyed this post more.

Totally totaled

There's good news and there's bad news about my car that was plowed into last Wednesday morning on the freeway.

My insurance company said my car was right on the borderline of being totaled, and they gave me the choice of whether to cash out or repair it. I'm going to consider it totaled and cash out. That's the good news. It's also the bad news.

As if I don't have enough things to keep me busy, now I have to add negotiating with the insurance company for a fair price and shopping for a new car to the list. I'm trying to look at the bright side.

My insurance company, Mercury, has been stellar so far in helping me with this claim. Actually, I believe they'll continue to act that way in cashing me out. I believe I'll get fair market value for the car - after all, that's what they do.

I think the issue will be exactly what constitutes fair market value.

There's a formula they use that involves comparing then averaging the price of cars similar to mine to arrive at a payout number. But the numbers I can find may be different (read: higher) than the numbers they find. I'm getting ahead of myself here. I will hope for the best.

What's nice about getting totaled is I'll get more money for the car now than I would if they fixed it and I sold it down the road. This is my moment to get as much as I'll ever be able to for it.

As my friend Pete said, the decision couldn't be more clear. The integrity of the frame was compromised. The body shop would literally have to cut the back third of it off, then re-weld it back on.

And when it comes to integrity, I work in advertising. I'm already compromised enough.

Of course, my car was paid off and I'm not looking forward to car payments. I'm also not looking forward to driving a pre-owned (used) car. The Lexus was my first brand new car in twenty-one years.

First world problems. I know.

So tomorrow begins the frantic online search of Certified Pre-Owned cars, then planning exactly when I'll have time this weekend to test drive the ones I'm interested in.

Just in case you think I've lost my perspective, I haven't.

Considering how severe the hit was, I'm grateful to be around to have to do it all.

Mr. Lincoln

Since my car accident last week I’ve been driving a rental. It’s not a car I'd ever buy, much less drive voluntarily. But it’s all that was left on the Enterprise lot at 1PM last Wednesday, after what was left of my car was flat-bedded to the body shop.

So choice wasn’t an option.

It’s this little beauty, a 2013 Lincoln MKZ. It’s also a stunning example why I haven’t bought an American-made car since my very first car, a 1965 Plymouth Fury.

On the outside, it's not bad looking. That is unless you compare it to almost any other car in its category on the road. Especially the foreign ones.

Inside, the fit and finish are neither. It is a cheap, plastic-y looking mish-mash of desperation trying to work in unity and failing miserably. Despite all the bells and whistles it's loaded with, it seems like all it's doing is trying to say, "Look how contemporary I am!"

Everything is electrical on it. Electric push-button transmission. Electric volume and air-conditioning adjustment bars you slide your finger across. Electronic instrument display.

There are controls on the steering wheel for audio, various navigation menus and cruise control. But they feel cheap, like they'll break if you press them to hard. The layout is confusing, and if they're going to plaster that many on there then they really should have a bigger wheel.

Also, for all the electronics there's only has one heavily overworked battery. And when the car is running all its gizmos, I bet it's a lonely battery.

Behind the wheel is cramped and crowded. My knees hit the inside of the center console. I thought maybe this was because I'm not exactly a tiny person, but come to find out it's the same for my smaller friends who've sat in the drivers seat.

Don't get me wrong: some of the best cars ever made have been American automobiles. It's not like we don't know how to do it. It's just that with full-salary pensions and giant bonuses, the money that should've been going into R & D on the cars has been lining the pockets of executives and union leaders.

The truth is I'd go out of my way to buy an American car that could go toe to tire with the foreign counterparts I've owned.

But the Lincoln MKZ isn't that car.

Taking the e-asy way out

I fully intended to have a new post up tonight. And like we've all come to expect, especially me, it was going to be witty yet insightful, terse yet pithy, lengthy but well written. But here's the deal: after the past five days I'm feeling more beat up than Tyler Durden.

Not only is my back killing me from my lovely and unexpected auto accident last Wednesday that I told you about here, but I'm also exhausted from four days sleeping on grass, standing in line, walking in halls and sitting in chairs at Comic Con.

I'm not complaining about the Con. It was teenage fun.

I am complaining about the car accident. That sucked.

Anyway, if you've been online anytime in the last couple years, you've probably noticed the explosion in Your e-cards and someecards. These are cards you make online and have added to a library for all the world to use.

I've custom made a lot of them for various posts on here, and I've also used existing ones.

Anyway, since I'm falling asleep in my soup, I'm putting up a few I like for your enjoyment.

By the way, I'm fully prepared for the lecture I'll get from my friend Rich over at Round Seventeen about taking the easy way out on this post.

I just hope he doesn't wake me when he calls and yells at me.

Open letter to the person who hit my car yesterday

Dear hit and run driver,

I hope your day went better than mine did yesterday after you plowed into my car on the 405 South.

Well, actually I don't.

What I really hope is you had the worst day of your life, maybe something along the lines of crippling fear and paranoia you'll be caught for hitting two cars on the freeway then taking off on the nearest offramp.

Since the CHP said you must've been going about 80 mph when you plowed into me, the front end of your car must be in pretty bad shape. Surprised it was still running well enough to leave the scene. I hope your car was at least damaged to the tune of the estimated $10,500 dollars - so far - that you did to mine.

Also, thanks for worrying whether I was hurt or not. It's easy to understand why you'd think driving off after knocking my car, which was already going 55 mph, forward a couple more car lengths and sending me flying forward with all the inertia that kind of collision brings with it (good thing I had my seat belt on, huh?), would leave me relatively unharmed.

But enough about me. What about the other girl's car you side-swiped as you veered across three lanes of traffic to make your getaway? I'm going to bet she's not too happy with you either. I think if you ever start passing out apologies, you've better save one for her.

I know you don't know this, but she actually saw your face and remembered your tan Camry. Sadly she didn't get the license plate, because to follow you off the freeway would've meant her racing across three lanes to catch up with you. And unlike yourself, she didn't want to cause an accident.

But I hope you're losing a lot of sleep wondering if the she got the plate or not.

I wish you'd stuck around because I would've loved to know why you hit me. I wasn't stopped. You must've taken your eyes off the road for a sec. Texting maybe? Putting makeup on? Maybe looking for the nearest offramp in case you hit something - that'd be ironic wouldn't it.

I'd also like to know why you fled the scene. The CHP officer said it could be one of several things. Maybe you were driving with a suspended license. You could've been getting an early start being drunk or stoned. He also said you might not have had insurance so you were afraid you'd get arrested. Which you wouldn't have.

But you will now if someone calls in the damage on your car.

Odds are in your favor that unless you have a guilty conscience and call it in, you'll probably get away with it. I hope not. Even though I have nothing to base it on, in fact I have evidence to the contrary with you leaving and all, I'd still like to think you'll do the right thing.

If not, then all I can hope for is that kharma wreaks a nasty, ugly, expensive and unexpected revenge on your ass.

Because after all, kharma, like you, is a bitch.

I've got an astral plane to catch

My friend Rich over at Round Seventeen put up a post yesterday about an accident he was involved in years ago on the way to his mom's funeral. By his own description, it was one that should've reunited him with his mother but fortunately didn't.

Because of when it happened, and the outcome being exactly the opposite of what logic and reason would tell you it should've been, I'm of the belief it was his mom who decided to intervene and make sure Rich and his family were at her funeral. Apparently I'm not the only one who's told him this.

However, Rich doesn't agree.

When it comes to beliefs in God, angels and the supernatural, by his own admission he's simply not on board the faith train. Which is fine. All it means is that at the end of the day - and I do mean the end of the day - he'll just be packing lighter.

Hey, it's a free country and I'm not out to change anyone's mind. But one of my personal beliefs is every once in awhile there are signs of and from a world beyond that simply can't be ignored. Or explained any other way.

So I'll see your departed mom story, and raise you a departed dad story of my own.

My dad died six years after my mom. When he died, he'd been seeing a woman named Esther who rode with us to his funeral.

When we got there, my (now) wife and I wanted to be alone with my dad for a few minutes. So we went inside, and had the casket opened so we could look at him. I turned to my wife and said, "This is weird, but I feel like I want to put some money in his pocket." To which my wife said, "Go ahead."

I took out my wallet, and inside were a few different bills. I took out a few, then put them back and took out a $20 bill and put it in his pocket. After I did, I felt an immediate sense of relief. We had the casket closed, and proceeded with the service.

When it was over, we were driving Esther home. She was sitting in the back seat so I could see her in the rear view mirror. She was just casually talking about my dad, saying how sweet he was, how she'd loved traveling with him, things like that.

Then she said, "And did you know your father never went anywhere without a $20 bill in his pocket?"

Needless to say that got our attention.

I told her I didn't know that, and asked her why. She said, "Because your father was from Brooklyn, and he always thought that if he got mugged and didn't have any money on him they'd beat him up even worse. So he always carried a $20 bill in his pocket."

We were speechless.

After thinking long and hard if I'd ever heard him say that - which I never did - I finally told Esther what I'd done and told her I was pretty sure he didn't have to worry about it where he was going.

Sometimes it's easy to see the signs, sometimes it isn't. But I believe with all my heart that was a goodbye from my dad that I simply couldn't ignore. I suppose it'd be easy to chalk it up to coincidence, or say that I did hear him say it at some point and just don't remember.

But I know that wasn't it. I know, my wife knows and Esther knows what it was.

Woody Allen once said one of the things he feared most about dying is that when he got to heaven they wouldn't be able to break a twenty.

I've known for a long time that's not a worry my dad had.