Mia was living the dream. At 22, she had a real job, her own studio apartment, and a semi-trustworthy red Honda Civic she named Cherry. Cherry had Bluetooth, cupholders, and—after three months—only one parking ticket. A win.
One Saturday morning, latte in hand and Spotify bumping her “Grown Woman Energy” playlist, Mia parallel-parked Cherry outside a local thrift store. The sun was shining. Her eyeliner was even. She felt unstoppable.
Fifteen minutes and one bedazzled jacket later, she heard it:
CRUNCH.
Mia bolted outside. There it was. A delivery van. And poor Cherry, with a fresh dent in her side and her side mirror hanging by a wire. The driver hopped out, looking sheepish and holding his hands up like he just dropped a toddler.
“I didn’t see your car,” he said. “Sorry.”
“You have insurance, right?” Mia asked, gripping her latte like a stress ball.
The guy hesitated. “Uh… I used to.”
Cue the record scratch.
Back at her apartment, Mia sat cross-legged on the floor, staring at her auto insurance policy like it had personally offended her. She dialed her best friend Aisha, who had once read an article titled “Adulting: Car Edition” and was now considered the group’s unofficial policy translator.
“Okay, so the delivery dude didn’t have insurance?” Aisha asked between popcorn crunches. “You’ll probably have to use your uninsured motorist coverage or collision—depends on your policy.”
Mia flipped through her digital policy. “I have collision. But it says there’s a $1,000 deductible. So I still have to pay?”
“Yeah. Your auto insurance covers you, but only after you pay that chunk.”
Mia flopped back dramatically. “So he hits me, but I pay money? That feels backwards.”
“It’s insurance, not justice,” Aisha said. “But if your company can track him down and sue him or whatever, you might get reimbursed.”
“Cool. So I’m basically paying rent, groceries, and other people’s mistakes now.”
Cherry’s repairs were quoted at $950. Mia paid out of pocket—below the deductible. Her wallet cried, but her auto insurance didn’t lift a finger.
In the following days, Mia deep-dived into her policy like it was a true crime documentary. She learned about liability, comprehensive, collision, and the weird joy of saying “rental reimbursement” out loud.
Now, she tells anyone who’ll listen, “The best time to understand your auto insurance is before someone with a mystery van tries to turn your car into abstract art.”
Final Reflection:
Cherry still bears a small dent—Mia calls it a “life tattoo.” And while the uninsured van guy is now part of her villain origin story, Mia’s not bitter. Just better insured.
If you’ve never checked if your auto insurance covers hit-and-runs or uninsured drivers, here’s your cosmic sign. Don’t wait for your own “Oops, no coverage” moment.
