Over the weekend my husband found mom’s second set of Honda keys in his desk. He brought them to me, and I took them off the split ring they shared with two mailbox keys, and threw them away. While putting some of mom’s recent year’s files into storage, that ought to keep mice at bay should they venture under the house again 🐭, I came across a 2013 file folder of repair bills for the Honda. In it was an invoice for body work from when, I think, she hit a bollard driving off the ferry. I threw the folder out. It’s meaningless history now. The insurance company holds all that data.
Mom still has her original set of keys. Someday I’ll get them exhumed from her purse and throw them out too. When she misses them, I’ll tell her we had to send them to her insurance company when the car was totaled.
The reactionary daughter in me retreats to the fact she’ll never be able to obtain car insurance again, each time she talks about getting a car and driving, not to mention a driver’s license.
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