Monday (Prior to Labor Day) : I told myself that I would wake up early enough to get down to the local DMV office before it opens and the endless line of monotonous boredom and hopelessness develops. The only problem with this is Sven likes his sleep and I didn’t get to bed at a decent hour. So the eight o’clock hour rolls around and I unwillingly decide to to get my lazy ass out of bed. I come to the conclusion that my local office will not due since it tends to always be busy. Actually busy isn’t the best way to describe my DMV office. Maybe something more like, an over burdened cluster$@#%, yeah that works. As I drove past the building, it was obvious that I would be making an extended trip. The queue was already wrapping around the building, and that did not sit well with me.

The DMV Line, EST. 1932... Sven is in there, somewhere.

(Now Sven, why didn’t you schedule an appointment with the DMV? It allows you to skip the long waits.)

And that is a valid question. I could have scheduled one, but it wasn’t a necessity since work wasn’t on the agenda and I didn’t have any other commitments that day. I figured that me and the DMV could spend the day together mutually hating each other.

So I finally get to the third office, having covered over 30 or so miles already, I decided I might as well stay, and lo and behold… a line! Who would have thought that there would be a line at the DMV? Oh wait, the DMV is a state run office, which means that it has the potential to be a well oiled, finely tuned machine, but it  acts more like a well oiled Ford Pinto, it just doesn’t quite make the grade (or even a slight incline).

Having seen the line stretch along outside the door, I decided that Sven needed some coffee. After a trip to a nearby Bucks, a Doubleshot, and a croissant, I managed to amount enough courage to take another stab at the government building. I couldn’t believe it when I arrived, no line. NO LINE! I could hear gospel music in my head as I walked up to the building, only to have it silenced when I walked in. Packed. Filled to the brim. Standing room only. Bummer.

I took my number and necessary forms and managed to find a seat. I penned in the required lines, checked the appropriate boxes: Male, Donor, Already registered to vote. “Now serving… G…1…7…5… at window number…5” I looked at my lil slip: G217. Sigh…I knew it wasn’t going to be an in and out process and I accepted that, but no one wants to go to the DMV, everyone has to go, (It’s like a visit to the local proctologist, no guy wants to do it, its highly recomended that you do it, and a small percentage of those out there look forward to it, the only diference is that this proctologist doesn’t use gloves), so the sooner I get out the better.

Eventually G217 is called out over the prerecorded lifeless voice and I made my way to the desk. Paid my dues, then told to queue up at another window. Luckily no line. Sign here and thumb here……smile for the camera. Ha yeah right. Smile? I’m at the DMV.

DMV... Satan's Inspiration

Now since Bren and I took the Motorcycle Safety Program we are exempt from having to take the DMV’s riding test, so all I have to do is take the written portion of the test and that will be the end of that. Just getting out of dealing with the DMV for the riding test made the $150 riding class worth it 10 times over!

I was told I could miss no more than 4 questions, and I passed by the thinnest margin possible: 4 wrong. Not the best test I have ever taken, but a “pass” is a “pass” and all that matters is that I left with a M-1 license.