Daring Driver

I’ve lived a conservative life by many standards, but today I’ve decided to do something a little insane.

I’m trying to renew my vehicle registration on the last day of the month.

(Insert crazed laughter)

It hasn’t been a conscious decision, exacly; the renewal notice just languished on our refrigerator while I thought about other things like diapers and makeovers and digital watches.

Earlier today I headed out after lunch with Ian in tow, planning to knock out the emissions test and registration renewal in a couple of hours. I knew I would have to wait, but — not being accustomed to living dangerously — I had no idea of the lines that awaited me at my local emissions testing station.

And then….sigh….I couldn’t help myself. I don’t know about you guys, but on my impatient days I tend to be a line hopper at the grocery store. I skip from one line to the next, hoping the new line will be faster, only to be sorely disappointed.

So yeah. The line at the testing station in another part of the city was even longer. I decided to run Ian home and return to my quest after Ian’s Daddy came home from work.

So here I am, sitting in line at the testing station. I’ve been able to pull into the driveway of the station after about 45 minutes of waiting on the shoulder of the highway. So far I’ve seen a homeless guy on a bike, lots of city buses, and Cher. Or maybe it was Loretta Lynn.

My line comrades and I guard our spots jealously. When another driver pulls into the turning lane as if they might bypass us and pull directly into the station, we inch forward, tightening the spaces between the cars to let the newbies know they must pay their dues.

My toes are going numb, and my leg muscles are beginning to cramp because I keep forgetting to put the car in park. Yet I grow ever nearer to the end of the line, hoping for that moment when I will pass the test….
And then, and only then —

I’ll go stand in line at the county clerk’s office.