I love it when a plan comes together
On the four times in your lifetime it ever happens,
Finished my shit today fairly early and the Big Boss cut me loose early (in addition to buying lunch!!) so I made it home past the worst of the Chicago expressway traffic.
I have to get my truck license plates renewed. I have to get a cop to verify the VIN number on the camper. I need to take that info to the DMV and get plates and take the motorcycle learner’s permit test.
I manage to get in touch with the local PD, who need $5 to have a cop come to the house.
I hit the bank for cash, head off to the copshop, pay the $5, go back home, put the dog out for a piss, the cop pulls up and fills out the form, polite and nice, and I bundle up my shit and head for the DMV.
Now, I did have to wait for an hour, almost.
But I managed to get tags for the truck, tags and title on the trailer, and my motorcycle learners permit, all in one fell swoop. And the woman who waited on me, a sixtysomething french woman with almost no trace of accent and the nicest backside I’ve seen on a woman that age, made the whole process so painless that I began to change my entire opinion of the place.
No, not really.
Still: I have my learner’s permit. And the tags for the camper. And new tags on the truck. I’m amazed.
So glad I’ve hung on to the bike license for all these years.
If only I had hung onto the bike!
Og. I don’t know about Up There, but in TN, you can take the MSF Rider Course & it negates the need for a license test. Show your cert & they hand you a license. Now that’s painless!
Dealing with motor vehicle registrations and licenses is a pain wherever one is. And since, unlike most interactions with government, the only available choices are “pain”, “starvation”, and “prison”, it’s the one we all hate most.
But on a purely apples-to-apples level, I have to say that dealing with the Secretary of State here in IL is orders of magnitude less painful than doing so in my former home state of MI. (So in IL it’s like beating your head on a brick wall a couple of dozen times. Versus smashing your nuts with a sledgehammer over and over for an hour and a half, which is what it feels like in MI.)