Me and the DMV

Most everyone I know  that has a license to drive has had an experience with the Department of Motor Vehicles in their respective state. Most are tales of wasted time, seemingly pointless questions, lots a paper and fees for things like, oh, just listening to you say, “Hello.” In 1992 when LA was rioting over the Rodney King trial verdict, some guys in line at the DMV in Long Beach, many many miles away, lit the place on fire. After the last few weeks, I am beginning to doubt they even knew about the LA situation. They were simply fed up with being in line!

Yesterday, on the last leg of my registration/title transfer-resurrection adventure, I actually FELL ASLEEP at one point. Really. After walking in and find NO LINE at all, very pleased that this would be a quick event**, I was dashed when the nice lady behind the info counter told me, “take the car around the the side and into the lane marked, Vehicle Verification. They will inspect it between driving tests.” Now, I had just paid over one hundred and thirty bucks to have a State Licensed inspection station do that two days before. Very odd.

I do not remember but, driving tests seem to take a long time when you are sitting in a car, in the sun, waiting for them to end. Or just one to end. Read a little, why not? Can’t dance! Laid back, comfy low seat, sunshine, book = sleep. Until of-course someone knocks on the top of the car and scares the crap out of you. Then it;s not so comfy anymore. Luis, you are a bastard state employee! You add to the bad rap all DMV employees have. I am sticking my tongue out at you at this very moment in silent retroactive protest.

I did not say anything at time because I wanted to get through the process and quite frankly, I was intimidated by his authority. More realistically, his ability to make my life more of the hell it has already been when dealing with this little car. I did not want him, mad at me! So, suck it up little camper.

He asked me one question. That’s it, one. “Is that your paperwork?” He looked at the exact same things the guy two days before looked at. He signed a few spot, checked a few more, doodled here, scribbled there and, 3-4 minutes later, “Here you go. Please move you car and take the paperwork in to the information desk.” Oh joy, back to the nice lady.  Well, nice lady was now a different nice lady that was not very nice nor very competent. The line that was not there at all when went out for my nap was not eleven people deep.

I wish I knew how long I had been asleep!

Eventually I made it up to get a number and then go wait some more. When finally called to the counter, I dutifly and happily hand over my stack of forms and inspection proofs and receipts and stuff he did not want or need. He shuffles, cuts, shuffles some more and then asks, (I swear this is true) “Did you know you needed to fill this out too?” Why, yes sir I did – that is exactly why I didn’t do it! Jack-Hole! Back to the seats with my tree remains and pen. At least I had a ‘priority number’ now – just come on back up soon as I was finished he said. However he did not say it loud enough for everyone else to hear. Some people can be so vocal when displeased by someone ‘cutting in line’.  That attitude spreads too. Once it starts – its like  a freaking attitude snowball. Not pretty.

A while later, who knows how long, maybe as long as my nap, he asks for a lot of money and my license plates. ?? Uhm, “Don’t I need those?” Well no I do not – I need NEW ones since the title is being revived. (Not resurrected as I enjoyed saying and they did not enjoy hearing” “Got tools?” I ask.

Turns out the original nice lady is back in info seat and she had tools in her drawer. She takes my wallet and hands me two screw drives big enough to pick my car up with and tiny pair of pliers, just in case I suppose. There is at this moment, no line. At the car I find that neither of the magnificent and huge screw drives fit so it is with tiny pliers and many many many twists, I get the dang thing off.

Upon my return I walk to the desk, straight in a right past about eight people now in line. One goofy looking cowboy wanna-be decides to say something. Now, I have been getting in and out of lines for over an hour now and I just am not in to hearing any more crap from anyone who doesn’t know. I suppose the fact that he whistled before he said his little bit of mumbly crap did it. So, with giant pointy tools pointed at him I said, rather loudly, “I’ve been here for over an hour dude! I’ve been through that line twice! I am up here because they want me up here! Got it?” Placing the tools down hard on the counter,  nice lady gives me my wallet back while everyone else in line that wanted to offer cowboy support by glaring at me looked at their shoes.

Back in line, to wait for the girl on the phone for ten minutes to hang up, reach in a drawer, pull out an envelope with new license plates in it, and hand to me. It seems she could not do that while talking on the phone in hushed tones that make me thing, personal call.

Whew – just telling you this gave me a back and headache.

I now have two projects, both legal and insured and probably in competition to see which one can leave me stranded somewhere awkward first. The Fiero actually did that already. After passing the ‘saftey’ inspection, upon be placed back on the ground, the starter failed. The car was deemed safe to drive if only it would start.

**Just to add some humor to the entire thing, I got out of the house early to be the first in line at DMV. 7:45 should get me up close to the front of the line right? Well, yes, very, since they do not open until 9:00 on Wednesdays. It’s the little things, the details.

Peace, Ant-Knee

Let me know if this makes not sense at all – I just had a lot of coffee and wanted to share – before I drive the little wreck to work!