I hadn't owned my Mazda Miata convertible (capriciously purchased a few days shy of my 30th birthday last year) more than two months when a drunk driver swerved off the road and clipped the rear of the car as it was parked along a residential street one chilly January night. (Photo - 47KB) I heard the collision, rushed out the door in my underwear, and very nearly clobbered the first person I saw. Thankfully, I refrained from hitting the neighbor, who in turn convinced me not to assault the drunk driver, who had stopped. It eventually took two body shops, one more fender bender, one angry letter to the Better Business Bureau, and six long months during which I often contemplated renouncing all worldly possessions before I got my car back.