I’ve Got You Covered!

In case you just arrived on this planet via spaceship, you likely have heard of Judge Judy.  Judge Judy is a grizzled, but somewhat pleasant, adjudicator of interesting legal cases. 

 

Some of these cases involve folks who have had entertaining traffic mishaps, most of them centering on the lack of auto insurance.

 

Today, I just paid my flood insurance for my home in Virginia.  The bill was nearly high enough to reach the International Space Station but, it is because my home is in a “flood plain.”

 

It is called a flood plain because it is a plain that floods.  Typically, high tides, the occasional nor’easter, and fairly rare hurricane can make things pretty, well, flooded.

 

To grease the skids for the insurance companies, they charge those exorbitant rates to protect themselves from us trying to protect our stuff.

 

I also have a small bungalow in God’s Waiting Room, also known as Florida.

 

This place also is insured against flood with flood insurance, wind with wind insurance, hurricanes with hurricane insurance, fire with fire insurance, and something unique to Florida – sinkhole insurance to protect against your home vanishing into the ground.

 

None of these insurances are cheap and all must be paid annually.  My last bill demanded money plus my first born male child.

 

To get to and fro, I have a car that requires insurance, too.  This insurance is really special inasmuch as I get to select how much insurance I cover plus I get to select my deductible rate.

 

Allow me to explain how this works.

 

After using the same auto insurance carrier for nearly three decades, someone slammed into the back of my car while stopped in the Chesapeake Bay Bridge.  The little tart driving the other car was fumbling for a CD under the passenger seat and blamed me for not simply driving through traffic stopped ahead of me.

 

My insurance company, whose identity will not be revealed – but their name rhymes with “Wallstate,” was delighted to collect nearly $25,000 in premiums from me.  Now, they were hesitant to talk with me about paying me for any damage.

 

As luck has it, tart-girl’s insurance company delivered a suitcase full of twenties to our door, about the same time our insurance agent disconnected his phone.

 

This adventure was eye-opening since I can only imagine trying to collect for my homes which could be damaged by a storm.

 

“We’re sorry, Uncle Paul.  Your hurricane insurance doesn’t cover the wind damage that caused your roof to blow away.  By the way, we found it in Ames, Iowa.”

 

“But what about my wind insurance?” I would query.

 

“This is rain damage I’m talking about,” claims the insurance clown.

 

“How can the rain get in there without the wind?” is my next question.

 

And so, this circular debate is akin to one I would have with Smokey the cat.

 

That, Judge Judy, is why I don’t have insurance.