I went to the DMV today. I was there to finally get my motorcycle license. While my little 1971 Kawasaki is a great lawn ornament and lends a touch of southern charm to the little bungalow I live in, I thought it might be nice to actually take the thing for a spin every once in a while. Thus, we have my DMV excursion of this morn. I wasn’t expecting much of a shitshow at the Tuscaloosa DMV as this place isn’t that densely populated.
When I walked in there was one sassy older woman, named Elliot, wrangling the crowd and sending people out the door to retrieve forgotten identification or through the door behind her to be photographed, tested, poked and prodded.
Now I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking that this is gonna be another DMV horror story where I slag on the the lines and the inefficiency and the horrible picture and how in the end they end up giving a license to anyone, mental capacity not withstanding, who can deal with the red tape. Not so! Not so at all.
You see, I actually found my experience at the DMV quite pleasurable. In a lot of ways, it turned into a life progress report. And lemme tell ya, on the surface at least, things are going swimmingly.
I got past Elliot without incident and was soon enough sat in front of a license official. After taking a look at my documentation, she told me to stick my face into a big, beige View-Master.
“Read row six,” she said.
“Four, five, six,” etc etc etc I said back.
Perfect vision still intact? Check. The license official lady (I can’t remember her name), then asked me a bunch of questions.
“Mr. Houser, has your license ever been suspended, revoked or have you been charged with a major infraction in the last two years?”
Looked like I was living on the right side of the law, all things considered.
“Mr. Houser, have you suffered a brain aneurism, any sort of head trauma, a grand mal seizure, any seizure, lost vision temporarily, smelled nutmeg in June, suffered any physical or mental or emotional impairment within the last five years?”
And there you had it. Not only was I an upstanding, law-abiding citizen, I was healthy as a horse to boot. I would like personally thank the Tuscaloosa Department of Motor Vehicles. I feel like I’ve had my oil checked, my tires kicked and been given a hearty stamp of approval.