THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DON'T TAKE THE TRUCK JIMBO

You could have taken the truck, Jimbo, your faithful truck capable of carrying no fewer than three deer carcasses through the streets of Tallahassee with ease. Instead you took the Mercedes, THAT FANCIFIED GERMAN CITY BOY CAR. And dammit Jimbo, that's how you end up in an accident on the way to work and putting that frilly-lace-life-doily of a car up on the wrecker. Your truck wouldn't have even been going fast enough to make trouble, Jimbo. Just remember that next time you pass it up in the driveway for that Teutonic hussy of a sedan.

Everyone is mostly okay, and that is great (especially since the couple in the other car had a one year old in the car with them.) It's a non-story save for this one detail which, coming from the crack detectives at the Tallahassee Police Department, will surprise no one.

Police could not determine which driver was at fault for the accident.

Let's not crack on TPD just yet, though.

Really, in any Florida traffic accident, the issue of fault starts at "you got in a car in the state of Florida, meaning you were texting and driving at the bare minimum, possibly running two business calls from your cellphone while doing that texting, and depending on the county and city could also have been trying to clean a deer, fill out divorce paperwork, engage in a knife fight with a passenger, complete a set of heavy curls with a 50 pound dumbbell for beach season, take a vigorous sex session with another passenger to completion, put the final touches on a tarot reading, seal a pipe bomb, sharpen your Ren Fair sword, load a homemade blunderbuss, insert a pair of black-market butt implants into a half-anesthetized patient laying prone on the passenger seat, or finish watching tape of a Lake County recruit you've been meaning to study up on."

Fault's a hard thing to define in any situation, and in Florida it's damn near impossible, is what we're saying. Good morning.