It's Just a Policy

So, something happened today and broke up a rather tedious couple of weeks. It really kinda drove home that whoa, I think I'm growing up. Becoming some kinda adult-type figure. That there may be some light at the end of the tunnel, and that things can and will improve. Where did this startling moment of epiphany? Was it the realization that I've changed residences almost half a dozen times? That I'm more than half-way through my schooling? That I've logged more than five years at my current job, or that I'm generally independent? Or perhaps that, just maybe, I should expand my cookware to include more than a single medium pot and a large frying pan? None of these things, actually. Instead, I got my auto insurance in the mail.

Which, when you think about it, is just one more mundane set of paperwork that you need to file somewhere (in the glove compartment). In this case, though, I renewed my plan for the year. And it is now costing me approximately half of what it was last year. You see, for some reason or another, the insurance company has decided that, when behind a wheel, I am no longer a menace to society who is seeking to run over everyone/thing with my four wheels. It must be some combination of my age, driving record, when I got my license, how long I've been insured, this year's average rainfall of the Amazon rainforest and the general alignment of the planets that has determined the change to my policy.

You see, it seems as though I've somehow tricked someone into thinking I'm responsible. Whether on purpose or not, I really don't know. When I called to have my address changed, they mentioned off-hand that my policy renewal was coming up and I'd see a discount on my rate. I figured, in true banking/insurance fashion, it'd be a whopping 5% a year, saving me an incredible $20. Instead, I got more (or much much less, depending on how you think about it) than I bargained for. I could've shrugged off 5%, and I could've kept doing so for the next ten years. But to have such a big discount, all at once, really means something has happened. I've crossed some sort of threshold into the world of established adults who don't pay exorbitant rates to keep a crappy old rust bucket on the road.

Sure, I always believed this type of fabled person existed. You hear about it all the time, like some kind of myth, how your parents and grandparents that pay $80 each month to insure EVERYTHING under the sun. Something like that feels an entire generation away, so when it sneaks up and unexpectedly smacks you upside the head, you're way more surprised than you should be. I don't have a mortgage or a family or twenty years of seniority or an interest in politics, and so it seems that I'm not qualified for anything like this. How peculiar.

Of course, the sheer fact of the new rate sent me over the moon. I was this close to considering selling off my car this summer. And I had already made up my mind that I'd keep it, but it was a very guilt-heavy decision to make. It really sucked a lot of joy out of being a car owner to think "I don't need this. I could be saving so much without it..." And yeah, I could still be saving a big chunk if I got rid of it. But the new rates, in my mind, provides a level of justification and comfort for avoiding the life of consuming public transit. It feels like I can and I should drive my car EVERYWHERE. Mind you, for that I'd need it to be reliable enough to do so. But still, all that money I'm saving? It'll help pay for repairs. Emphasis on help. The funny bit is that I'm sure my car will still need a lot of premium TLC.

But that's alright, because the new rates give me hope for the future. Hope that, some day, if I buy a decent car I'll be able to afford to put it on the road. I mean, if $130 will only put my junk bucket on the road for 30 days, how much would it cost for something that wasn't made before the release of Windows 98? Oh, the possibilities...

Either way, whenever I peek out of my bedroom window and see the side profile of the goofy, green lil' Acura... It excites me. Every single time I find myself asking, "Why aren't I driving that right now? I should be." Even with those unflattering rust patches in the quarter panels, and the creaks and the fading break discs. It's pathetic, really, but I can't help myself. And the next time I get in it, and the time after that, I'll be able to start the ignition with a decreased load of guilt on my shoulder. Assuming it starts at all, of course.

The thing that really made an impact was the fact that this premium change happened at all. It means something. I'm becoming more responsible and mature, a proper member of adult society. And so what am I going to do with myself? I'm going to call up my insurance agents and make sure that the statement is correct. And if it is, I'll be beefing up my plan and adding some other coverage. It's probably the responsible thing to do, you know.
-Cril

Throwing stones at the sky
When they fall back to earth
As minor chords of major works
Separate rooms of single life
We are one
We are alive

Death Cab for Cutie - Codes and Keys