Mother frickin’ fucker.
I rode my bike out to the DMV this morning. It’s about 3 1/2 miles, and I knew the route well because I rode out there Friday morning only to find it was closed for the Easter holiday.
My mission: to renew by drivers license, which expired in January. Of course, it would be illegal for me to drive to the DMV, with an expired license, but getting there by bicycle is a minor nightmare. It’s just not a very bicycle-friendly location.
I got there just after the office opened, but my heart sank when I found there were already 24 people in front of me in line. Everybody hates going to the DMV and I’m no exception.
But then my fortunes took a turn for the better. A lady with a clipboard came through the line, and those of us with fairly trivial errands got to cut ahead. Suddenly I found myself at the head of a much shorter line. Could it be that I would actually catch a break?
The clerk checked the computer and found I had a “block” that prevented her from renewing my license. It seems they still have me on record as owning the old ’85 Pontiac Sunbird that I sold on eBay a few years ago.
Since Louisiana law requires proof of insurance for all your vehicles, it’s incumbent upon me to prove that I sold this car. The clerk suggested that this block might originate from the fact that I neglected to remove the license plates from the car when I sold it.
Of course, I didn’t have the bill of sale on me. But even if I’d had the foresight to bring it, it wouldn’t have done me any good, because they can’t clear a block at that location. No, that would be too simple and convenient. Instead, I have to go to a “reinstatement office.”
The nearest reinstatement office is 8 1/2 miles from home. I’m not sure I can realistically bike to one of these places. Hell, I’m not sure I even have the bill of sale from the transaction.
This whole thing really chaps my ass.