The license bureau…….

Winter storm… Phone call you receive where bad news has happened to a loved one… Job hunting.. Seeing someone you think “oh baby - oh baby” about, approach them, and get cold shoulder…

Hemorrhoids.. Diarrhea.. Bronchitis.. Opening the gas bill in winter.. Opening the electrical bill in Summer…

The License Bureau is in that group. For real, are you acquainted with anyone who ever woke up and said “Yeeeeee-haaaaa, I getta go to the license bureau today!”……… Nope, me neither.

So I bought the Green Hornet. (Am buying the Green Hornet, thank to you know who.)…SO I must license it… In Missouri, we have these wonderful mandatory inspections… Gravel truck pulls in fronta ya, throws a rock at your windshield… forms a long crack.. Sorry, must get it fixed to drive on our Missouri roads…

Squeaky brakes, no left turn signal, no gas cap, windshield wipers need replacing’.. Sorry, can’t.

So, I gots my inspection.. “Victor, your 3rd brake light is out.. You’ll have to get that fixed, then we’ll get you an approval certificate.”…….. I said to myself… “ahm, if I hit the brakes, and the driver behind me sees two brake lights, don’t ya think the basta would know to slow down”…

So how much to fix that? “$12”… Just do it. Time is money, I suck mechanically (and I had on nice clothes…)

Oh boy oh boy, “passed”!.. YES!..

“Shit.” When I buried the Hot… Rod.. Lincoln……… Along with it went my proof of paying my 2007 Personal Property taxes.. Damnit Jim…

Don’t gots no printer, can’t print a new receipt online. Library. Yes. They have free computers, and you can print for .10 cents a page.

“Sorry, can’t log you on.” WHAT?.. WHY?.. I walks to front desk.. . “Yes Victor, you were four days late in July for two DVD’s and three books.. U owe us $6.” Thumbed the cash out, I printed my receipt. To the License Bureau…

Saturday, 11:15am, they’re open til noon. I’ve got my inspection, my title, cash in my fat wallet, proof of insurance… not a bad line… (any line is bad.. There were twelve infronta me).. Life ain’t so bad…

I’M NEXT!!!! I’M NEXT!!! I hope I don’t get “that lady”.. the one that looks like she’s worked there since 1963... I’d seen her give a few looks over the toppa her glasses.. Scares the behoogety outta me!

MY TURN! YES! YES!… Uh oh. Her. I hand her the necessities.. She thumbs thru them.. “There’s a lien on this title… you need a lien release form from the seller.”.. He’s got the title? Ain’t that good enough? They wouldn’t have given him that without him paying the Green Hornet off would they?.. “Sorry, it’s the law. Gotta have a Lien Release from the seller.”

By now, it’s 11:25am.. Thirty five minutes.. I drives to my niece/nephew’s house.. “outta breath mutter ‘Lien Release’?… I gave it to you Victor. Shit. He did. Was in glove box.

Drive back to the License Bureau, 11:40am…

In line by couple with a crying baby. Eh, figure what the hell, that’s what they do. They took turns trying to pacify. I don’t blame the little shit, license bureau’s are no fun.

YES! YES! MY TURN!… Same lady. Damnit Jim. Here. Here’s the Lien Release, here’s the title, here’s the proof’a insurance, here’s the taxes paid statement, here’s my driver’s license, and for good measure, here’s my Sam’s Club card.

“This Lien Release says it has to be notarized.” Shit. I looked at it. It WAS notarized. “Nope, the Notary has signed it, but there’s no stamp.”

11:fitty, ten more minutes. I speed to niece/nephews house. No cars.

Damnit Jim.

So, my nephew inlaw brings me the original Lien Release (where you can see the "Seal").. life is again, good.

Tuesday. I’ll do it Tuesday at work. On my lunch hour. Lunch hour comes. I drive to License Bureau in town where I work. Thought it was the GD Chief’s game there were so many people there. “Are you all in line?”… “You gotta get a number.”

By now, 15 minutes of my lunch hour had expired.. I find the number thingy, pull of “#32.” Cool. I sit for ten more minutes.. Finally.. They call out “NUMBER TWO PLEASE.” Shit.

I’ll do this tomorrow. I drove to work that day. Glanced over to the left. Hella big woman driving, eating. Why? I’ve had two very good friends that were way too big expire in their 50’s because they were way too big. Saddens me.

Sneak outta work at 10:45. #31 this time, but, they were already on #21. Cool. Followed some older folks in. Wondered to myself “I wonder if this is the last time they will get a renewal?”… “Is that scary for them?”.. “I’m sure it’s on their mind.”

Just then.. I hear “Hi”.. a soft, baby-ish voice.. And “Hi” again… And again, and again.

Was a toddler in a stroller, greeting each new number-taker that entered. What is it about life that gets in the way of us being so friendly? Us old folks didn’t say hi. She, the toddler, was innocent, and not ‘learned’ of ‘hard’.. All she knew was love. What changes us?

“#31 please.” Yes (notice no capitals, I’ve been to this point before.. I ain’t 100% sure it’s gonna happen.)….

Lady’s large. Very large. By the time I’d handed her my paperwork, given her my phone number, she’d downed two one-inch Tootsie Rolls.. “Why lady?” I said to myself. I don’t know you, but I love you, and you’re killing yourself. You’re maybe 33, you keep this up you’ll be gone in 15 years.

“Were you aware that since you didn’t license this within the mandatory 30 days that there’ll be a $25 fine?”… Ok, cool.. Yeah, that’s fine.

“And did you want to transfer the plates ($5, expire in February) or get new ones and they’ll be good for one year ($33)?”… Can’t you license cars for two years now?.. “Well.. Yes sir, you can.. (another Tootsie Roll).. But, your car is a ‘99, and you can only license even-yeared cars for two years during an even year. But next year you can license your odd-yeared car for two years.”… Make sense to me. What friggin’ State Representative came up with that law - I said to myself. No sense saying to her, she was eyeing the Tootsie Rolls.

$144 later, I walk out the door with new plates. No more staring in the Rear View mirror to see if it’s a cop.. (I’d illegally transferred my plates.) YIPEE!..

Whereinthehell is my screwdriver. I have a toolbox, another thing with tools in it. No GD screwdriver to take my old plates off. Idiot. I’m an idiot.

Back at work. Borrow maintenance dude's flathead screwdriver. I'm legal. (Even put it back in his office.)

Librarians. Order-takers (most) at Mickey D’s. HR personnel (most.).. Managers (a great percent).. And the License Bureau.

I’m legally tagged now. Life is good. I canardly wait for October 2009.

I’m the baby, gotta love me. Love, Victurd.