That’s it. No more vacations!
Sounds a little extreme, I know. But strange things tend to happen when my husband and I have the nerve to travel or take time off.
No, I don’t mean canceled flights, lost luggage, or stolen passports. Nothing so mundane as that. I’m talking about incidents like:
* a drowned Toyota;
* a windshield collision with flying branches while my car is going 55 mph;
* a Mazda smashed by a tree while it’s parked and minding its own business.
Detect a pattern here?
We’ve had so many weird holiday episodes, that our insurer has created a special policy provision just for us:
Notwithstanding the aforesaid incomprehensible coverage terms, this policy shall be subject to the following limitations and exclusions, hereinafter referred to as Madkane’s Oddball Vacation Incident Exclusion clause:
1. Claims for beach sand, in excess of four (4) gallons, entering automobile via sunroof, shall be subject to a $2,500 deductible.
2. Damage to fuel line by reptiles, including but not limited to alligators and crocodiles, is hereby excluded.
3. Hotel parking lot car-drowning incidents shall be subject to a “one more time and you’re canceled” cap.
Our most recent adventure took place at our weekend house. And before you get too impressed by our owning a weekend house, let me hasten to add it’s only 380 square feet. In fact, when we got it appraised for mortgage purposes, its “comparables” featured our neighbor’s garage.
Mark had spent the entire day telling me he “really, really, really should plant the flowers” — those very flowers that were waiting patiently in our Mazda, hoping against hope that the fellow who bought them the previous day would eventually recall that occasional sunlight is somewhat better than a hot, dark trunk.
Knowing better than to meddle in Mark’s planting activities — or lack thereof — I didn’t say a word. I didn’t have to. I already knew the answer: “I don’t want your help. Go away.”
Besides, I had complete faith that at some point before the plants died, Mark would remember that replacements cost money and he’d unload the car and begin digging and uprooting our resident worms. I also knew this would occur just as the last vestiges of sunlight said goodbye. (“Anyone can plant by daylight. Where’s the challenge in that?”)
Mark didn’t disappoint me. He cracked open the car trunk at 8 p.m. and finished around 10. He even did it without the sort of event that might trigger an insurance claim.
And then it happened: Just as Mark was walking up the driveway toward our refuse cans (in an aberrational instance of his actually taking out the garbage), he heard an unfamiliar noise. And thank heavens he did. Because the sound made him stop in his tracks, just as a huge tree limb came barreling down across our driveway, striking our car and our garbage cans but miraculously sparing Mark.
Mark naturally took this as a sign from God: “Thou shalt never again take out the garbage.”
We spent the rest of the night celebrating Mark’s survival. And devoted the next day to tree-limb removal, car-repair estimates, and insurance negotiations.
Needless to say, Madkane’s Oddball Vacation Incident Exclusion clause is longer than ever.
