Well, it was bound to happen. You live somewhere that it's cold enough to snow, you deal with driving around on ice and snow and stuff, and someone will eventually tag you. Dale got smacked this morning on his way to work, about a block away from our house. At least it was the car with full coverage.
I haven't seen the Fo yet. I was on my way to my first stop of the day, creeping along on the sheet of ice called South Sixth Street today. I called him to tell him to take the 39 to work because they usually have that pretty ice free. I said "Take the 39, it's less slip-" and he interjects "Yeah. I got hit, dealing with it right now". But he said its more scraping and scratching with a minor dent, no creasing at least *whew*.