Vehicle registration

My dad would say vee-hickle because everyone he was around does. When the guards at the Federal Reserve Bank said vee-hickle I cracked up laughing and they all looked at me like, "what's so funny?"

The notice to renew is distinct plus it's right on time.

The State is very good at keeping track of all the vee-hickles. It's kind of amazing.

The truck is old. Probably a classic by now, I bet. So it needs to have emissions checked every other year. I think.

Last year I didn't have to, so when the notice came this year I thought, "Crap. Now I have to go do that again." Eeew, I hate those mices to pieces.

Two times ago the place nearest to me was so bogus it's unbelievable. The line develops to four lines and everyone is waiting a long time. The little punk jerk was organizing vee-hickles to move out of their line and go into another bay. Car after car after car after car after car was moved in front of me while my line didn't move an inch.

I got so irate, and I mean fully steaming, I pulled out of line, drove around to the front, and stormed into the office and started yelling. I'm a ridiculous sight. Other customers waiting for other things were shocked, then amused, then actually laughing at me being such an outraged crackpot angrily vocalizing what they hate about the place. All social rules set aside because they made me so mad at them.

The office was entirely disconnected with the activities happening in the garages. Their only defense was, "go tell all this to the guy who is doing it."

I stormed off and went home. With no inspection. I used the computer to plan going to some other location. In Golden. A very great distance further. And that line was even worse. The online information said the line was minimal but by the time I got out there the situation had changed dramatically. It was actually worse than the place that is nearest.

At least it was an interesting and beautiful drive. Plus there's a Carhartt outlet directly across from the inspection place. And Carhartt is packed with clothing and goods. Honestly, there is not a spare inch in the whole place. It's an extremely interesting store. Almost like an Army surplus except everything is new and good.

That experience led me to go crawling back to the nearest one again two years later. I prepared for the worst. I prepared for that butthole again, or somebody similar, moving everyone in front of me arbitrarily.

But this time the whole place was run by women. Women mechanics filled the garage bays. There wasn't a single guy anywhere around. And let me tell you all of the bays ran much more efficiently. All the lines moved quickly. There was no shifting around left to right. Automobiles were processed quickly and efficiently and gracefully. The place ran like music. Like a symphony. These women were kicking around the equipment under the vee-hickles, examining the undersides with a mirror, hooking up test equipment, driving the vee-hickles onto the wheel spinners, pretend-driving the vee-hickles, revving the engines, popping the hoods, taking their measurements, discussing their findings, accepting payment with proficiency that I had never seen before at the State monopoly Air Care Colorado.

But I still dread going.

It's just a bummer.

So I got up early today and stayed up. Pulled myself together just barely. Cleaned out my wallet to have past registration and proof of insurance and license. Phone. Checkbook. Water. Keys.

I'm off.

Oh! One last thing. Open the envelope and have their form ready.

What? No wait, what? This form is different. It's telling me a new thing as if it were the regular old thing. It's about a handicapped license plate renewal requirement every three years. This never happened before. It was always treated like a standard license plate. The same deal.

I must have my doctor sign this form. To prove I'm not just being a jerk. I have to prove that I'm actually handicapped every three years.

Bless.

They think there's a chance I can heal.

That's fine.

I have an appointment tomorrow. It so happens by coincidence. How convenient.

But otherwise that would not be convenient.

And no vehicle inspection required.

So I'm not going anywhere today. And I don't have to mess with Air Care Colorado this year.

And I'm so well chuffed about the State being so unsteady it actually works to my advantage sometimes.

You know, the way to avoid this inconvenience is to buy a new car all the time. But that's another massive inconvenience. My dad actually enjoyed doing these things. Buying new cars and having old vee-hickles inspected. He always had multiple cars. Always had cars coming and going. That would drive me insane. Keeping up with one is maddening enough. My brothers and in-laws and cousins and nephews have this habit too. They buy automobiles and restore them. When my dad died he left a massive collection of tools that would complete any professional garage. An enviable collection of tools. But nobody wanted them. Come on. Why not? Because they all have their own.

Inspection, the thing that is such an incredible pain in the butt for me is a pleasant little picnic for them. It's a pop quiz they enjoy taking.