Looking at the bigger picture

A reckless individual ran a red light in late February and rammed into the driver’s side of my car.

I was knocked unconscious and rushed to the hospital by ambulance. Later that evening, I walked, albeit slowly, out of the hospital.

I had a serious headache, no broken bones, a lot of bumps and bruises, and a lasting impression that I’ll carry with me for many years.

When he rammed into my car, the individual was driving under a suspended driver’s license because of previous traffic violations and fender-benders. He should have never been on the road.

But timing is everything, whether in life or in business, and being in the right or wrong place at a specific time can mean the difference between failure and success, between life and death.

Over the years, I’ve written a lot about contingency planning. Without it, your business could find itself sold, closed or otherwise in doubt if something happens to you.

But in my personal life, contingency planning has never been a strength. Like others who fall victim to a lack of preparedness, I’ve always thought I’d be around to fight another day.

Now things are different.

My wife, Laura, is pregnant with our first child. And like many younger people, my house isn’t in very good order. Lying in the hospital, my thoughts were on the potential effects on my family rather than my physical condition.

Before the accident I’d never gotten around to putting together a will. And while I did a good job building a retirement fund, I did a poor job of acquiring life insurance policies to cover Laura should something happen.

More than two months later, I’m still recovering. My back is a little less stiff. My elbow, arm and wrist are regaining strength and flexibility.

As a result of the accident, I’ve learned the painful lesson that you’re never truly prepared for a disaster. But the better job you do planning — developing a succession plan for your business, buying more life insurance or simply preparing adequately for tomorrow — the safer you’ll be.

And that may just be the most important lesson I’ve ever learned.