I get an eerie feeling when I open the Progressive statement. The pages of my monthly bill are haunted.
The last time I saw my car, it was perfectly fine, but I have been told by people I trust that it no longer exists. Most of the time, the evidence of my car’s demise is overwhelming: I’ve met the agent who inspected my vehicle and deposited the check for it’s replacement; I’ve sorted through my vehicle’s contents and witnessed my husband’s trauma; My spot in the driveway is empty, even though I am not absent.
I have a ghost car.
My insurance premiums have gone up and I’ve found it expensive to insure nothing, though less perhaps than what a cancelled policy would illicit. For many reasons, a replacement car is now imminent: I’ll be ready to drive any day now and my husband needs help carpooling; We are paying for insurance anyway, so why not insure something tangible; (But maybe we are safer with the spirit of my suburban… what price peace of mind?)