My mailbox was once a strong, manly, fertile obelisk of rock-hard limestone. It was so large that it was somewhat conspicuous in front of my modest South Austin home. Then what I will only refer to as "the event which shall not be named" occurred. In an act of utter disregard for all that is solid and supple, some guy that was obviously under the influence of something rammed my mailbox at what must have been at least 55 mph. Oh, yeah, forgot to mention my coworker, Aaron, had parked his innocent and unsuspecting 92 Camry in front of my...