Accidents followed, of course. I was young and reckless, father. But my agent handled my claims deftly, and I was usually back on the road in no time. After all, as my grandfather Moynihan always used to say, one cannot consider oneself a good driver until he's had at least two really bad accidents.

But as time wore on and life got busier, I was tempted, father. Tempted by the lure of quickie transactions and faceless encounters at renewal. Tempted by the lure of low auto rates and relentless television and billboard advertising by insurance carriers who sold direct and did business over this new “Internet” thing.

Amusing ads with … geckos, father. I can hardly bear the shame of it.

This worked, for years. With no claims to report, it was a sin of omission in which no one seemed to have been hurt. But then came the day my sins began to start catching up with me.

A few years back I dropped my collision coverage on the first new car I ever bought, my 1996 Honda Civic, God rest her soul. A week—one week—after I dropped that cover, while exiting the Richmond Parkway a truck slammed on its brakes in front of me as it hit an ice patch. I slid on the ice too, skidded off the road at about 50 MPH and took out a traffic sign. The post tore off at the base and skewered the radiator. I was crushed. I knew she'd never roll on her own power ever again.

The carrier made it so hard to reach a person, father. I called and called, and when I did finally reach someone, she coolly informed me there was nothing she could do. I'd dropped my collision, my choice. My fate. “Sorry,” the rep chirped.

I yearned for the days when my agent was only a phone call away. When he was within driving distance (when the car was running, that is).

And yet still, father, still I did not see the error of my ways. I stayed with that direct carrier. I didn't officially report the accident or put in a claim; I laid the Civic to rest, donated her to charity, kissed her goodbye, took the loss and leased a new vehicle.

I was always busy, father. Busy with work, with being a new dad. I didn't make time to consult an agent. The direct carrier's rates were good, and my decision was influenced by a sense of blind loyalty. My good-driver record was excellent, as far as they were concerned. We had a history. They made it all too easy, father.

Then came the Reckoning.

One payment, father. I missed one payment with the direct carrier, over these past holidays, while I was deciding whether or not to extend my current lease. And what did they do?

They turned their backs on me.

“Yes, I realize you've been with us for a long time but I see you missed a payment, sir. That's our policy,” said the customer service rep, in his cockney accent. Punitive measures followed. One does not sin against the largest direct carrier in the U.S. and pay no penalty.

I need new car insurance, father. That's why I'm here. I hope you can forgive me, and help me on my way. I've learned my lesson.

Before you decide on my penance, please know that I did go to an agent when it came to my homeowner's coverage. This was my house we were talking about; there were serious details there that needed to be discussed. I had questions. Questions that needed answering. I consulted one of your own, and she was excellent in crafting my coverage and handling my first claim after Superstorm Sandy.

Now I realize that any coverage, auto or otherwise, is worth discussing. If nothing else, you need a regular agent to turn to. And whether it's an independent agent or a captive agent, I know now where my home is, if you will have me.