Last April I had to go to the DMV to get my driver’s license renewed. I wrote an article for darnfunnyonline.com at the time, chronically that nightmare. In January I moved to California and once again I had to go to the DMV, this time in California. The DMV is never fun but California’s DMV makes Nevada’s look like Paradise. Besides, no one should have to go to the DMV more than once in less than a year. That should be classified as cruel and unusual punishment.
My day started off trying to find a parking space in a lot that is about one quarter of the size it should be. Luckily, the parking space fairy was on my side that day because I only had to cruise around for about five minutes before I was able to beat another driver to a spot. He was a good sport about it though because he gave me a hearty wave as he drove away. Although, I think he must have hurt his hand earlier because his middle finger was sticking out as he waved. I felt sorry for him and gave a nice wave back.
Next, I had to deal with an unusual (euphemism for psycho) security guard. I wasn’t sure I was at the right place so I walked over to his side and asked him if I was. He stared straight ahead and answered in a strange psycho-like monotone voice, “Do you think you’re in the right place?”
I looked around to see if he was talking to someone other than me. Satisfied there was no one else (he actually could have been talking to an invisible guy now that I think of it) I said, “I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking you.”
Then he said curtly, “Ask one of them,” pointing to other customers.
Exasperated I replied, “They don’t work here they are customers like me.”
Then as he slowly turned his head and glared at me (at least he finally looked at me) I knew this was a good time to leave. After all, he had a gun. So I slowly backed away until I felt it was safe to run, which I did.
After standing in several more lines I finally got to the point where they took my picture for my driver’s license. When I got to see the picture I was positive I had been trapped in a time warp and I was now 80 years old. I don’t know how they do it but I’m pretty sure they have a way of gathering up all of the wrinkles, age spots and other disfiguring marks on a face that have been photos shopped out of pictures and put them into the DMV camera that then go onto the driver’s license pictures.
Next, much to my surprise I had to take a written driver’s test. They don’t make new people to Nevada do that. There the driving laws are whatever you can get away with. Anyway, after answering questions like, “If there is a double yellow line in the middle of the road and orange cones on the side of the road and the traffic light just turned red how much to you have to pay to bribe the cop to not give you a speeding ticket.” I passed the test. You are allowed to miss 6 questions and that’s what I did so grading on a curve I had a perfect score.
Finally, I had only one more obstacle before I could finish my day in hell. I had to get my car a smog test. Not surprisingly, it costs twice as much for a smog test in California than it does in Nevada. That’s a concept I’m getting used to quickly.
At last I was done. I’m guessing this whole ordeal was some weird sort of initiation test to see if they’ll let me stay in California. I apparently passed because they let me have a license. Now I just have to find out how much to bribe the cop because I missed that question on the test.
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