It is the nicest vehicle she has ever owned. It's tricked out with heated leather seats, a moon roof, dual air conditioning and a nifty button that will move the brake and gas pedals forward and backward.

Before I pulled out of her driveway she gave me the rules -- number one being if I smoked, don't have the moon roof open.

"All the ashes will blow into the back seat and make a mess," she said.

As a reformed smoker, she knew this from experience.

I am an advocate of listening to your mother, especially mine. However, I had a momentary lapse on my way to return the car.

I popped the moon roof open and lit a cigarette.

As I flicked it out the window, it flew back in and hit me in the neck.

The cigarette then rolled down the front of my shirt and in between my legs. While traveling 60 mph on U.S. 40, I began freaking out. Immediately hitting the brakes and pulling over, I could only imagine what my funeral was going to be like, as my mother was certainly going to kill me for the hole in her leather seat.

I jumped out of the vehicle as if it was engulfed in flames.

I carefully inspected the seat and there were no holes. I climbed back in the car with my heart still racing and finished my journey. I parked the car in the driveway and left her keys on the kitchen counter.

As I pulled out of the driveway in my own car, I thought about my near death experience. I had to chuckle a little and thank God my mother would never be the wiser -- until she reads this blog.