What do your possessions mean to you?

Last night we were out when Steve's pager (he's a volunteer at our local fire brigade) went off. "It's a car fire," he said. Then, "It's on our street." The incident had been reported as being at one of our neighbours' places. Steve's interest piqued, he used an app on his phone to listen to the radio communications.

Within a few minutes he said in shock, "They just said our house number." He grabbed the keys to my car and drove home, while the girls and I stayed and waited to hear what was happening. Which reported house number was correct?

It was Steve's car, our long planned for four-wheel-drive that we'd been kitting out for an extended trip around Australia. With no warning the engine had burst into flames - and it's likely to be a write-off.

My first thought was, thank goodness we weren't in it. A few days ago we drove home from South Australia and if it had happened then, well, that would have been pretty scary. And luckily, the two closest fire brigades stopped the fire from spreading to the carport or the house. We have a lot to he thankful for - and we are. In a shocked kind of way.

But I'm left feeling disillusioned.

I think a lot about simplifying life. Of owning less and being more. I'm fearful of debt and try to keep our possessions as few and as simple as possible. Spending big money makes me feel a bit empty and guilty, and I try not to be attached to what is just 'stuff'. I just want to be with my family, write, be a good person, enjoy life and be happy.

Problem is, sometimes happiness is tied up with possessions. Steve and I drove crappy cars for years to make sure we got ourselves set up in our own house. We dreamed of one day owning a four-wheel-drive so we could get to the places we wanted to see. Eventually we bought one and felt so proud of ourselves. The dog went in the back with the esky and a tent, and we were free. A couple of years ago we upgraded, spending what is to me a lot of money to make sure we had a good, reliable car for our future travel plans.

If instead, my car had burnt last night it would have been an annoyance, but that's it. My eight-year-old little hatchback simply gets us from point A to point B. But our four-wheel-drive was different; it got us to some amazing point Bs and was central to our plans for more trips.

Sometimes our possessions are not just things - they're tied up with dreams and plans and goals. It leaves us open to such disappointment and setback, and that worries me. I want to avoid that happening again - I mean, how stupid to be all sentimental over a bloody car - but it's symbolic of our hard work and the choices we've made. Really, my heart is still racing after hearing our own address on that fire brigade radio, too.

For now, we have a load of administrative stuff to organise. And then we'll start planning what to do next.

I'm sure we'll be back on the road in no time.