Jan 27, 2024
I’ve seen the good and the bad and heard of the ugly; so I wasn’t sure what to expect. I’ll tell you all. You’ll laugh.
In our town, the BMV, Bureau of Motor Vehicles, had a bad reputation — a horrid reputation for wait times, strict guidelines, bad attitudes, and never getting it right the first time. There’s a story here about my mother-in-law, but I’ll hold off on that for later.
It all changed with Governor Mitch Daniels at the turn of the century.
Just before passing, hubby gave away his 2 trucks to 2 sons. As I said, I didn’t know what to expect at the BMV. I had death certificate, titles, proof of insurance, my own I.D. and hubby’s driver’s license, just. in. case.
I’m sitting.
At the counter.
Son Clinton is standing over me.
To him I say, “Pull up a chair.”
“Can’t. They’re zip-tied together.”
“What? Well, get one of those.” I point at another cluster of chairs.
BMV employee says, “He can’t. They’re tied, too.”
“What? People steal chairs from the BMV! That’s hilarious!”
My right peripheral vision sees a tall dense shadow.
“Shew, you startled me.” I look up at my other son, Spencer.
As the happy female clerk fills in the computer blanks, we find out she is the actual manager of the BMV. I fill the silence, “What’s your most memorable experience?”
She becomes animated, “Beck’s O.C. Chopper!”
“An O.C. Chopper, really? That’s interesting.” Then I ask, “What was your worst?”
She declares, “Anything from overseas. So much paper work, stacks!”
The BMV employee, happy manager, says to Spencer, “What’s the color of your truck?
He laughs, “Black.”
I laugh, too, “Metallic brown - - bronze over rust.”
One of them says, "The more rust it looses the faster it goes."
Clinton says, “You’ve heard of “eat my dust”, this is “eat my rust!” Everyone laughs!
A couple more jokes about that old rust bucket and questioning its mechanical soundness and the BMV happy manager turns to Spencer.
“I need to see your driver’s license.”
He pulls it out of his wallet and sends it “swoosh” sliding across the counter.
“Fresh off the press!” he says.
“Shush," I lower my voice, "Don’t say that, we’re in a government building, you nut!”
Finishing up the paperwork, swiveling in her seat, she says, “Just push the green button, the smiley face.”
He grins, “Green? There’s a red frowny face. Hey, where’s the yellow, I want to push the yellow button.”
She laughs, "There's no yellow. Just press the green."
By this time, because of all the laughter, the clerk at the next station to our left is turning towards us, listening in.
The gal from this mornings information gathering (I’d come in earlier to see what all was needed) steps over and says, “Oh, yay, you’re the one I helped.”
A heavyset male employee leaning on his cane, had come to take the papers to finalize and file.
Clinton says, “While I’m here, can I get a title to my classic Pontiac, and can I keep the old title?”
The male employee with the cane chimes in, “No, I’m sorry.”
The BMV Happy Manager says, “That’s changed. Yes, he can. After we make a copy just write void across the original.”
“Hmmmm…” he concedes and sticks around for the jokes.
Spencer says, “They’re all jealous. Who comes into the BMV and has a good laugh.”
The BMV Happy Manager has one more instruction, “Sign right here, and in this box, since there’s no exchanging of money just write 0 and the word gifted”.
Spencer’s cheeky, he says, “Okay, but I’m signing this under duress!”
The male employee with the cane laughed, “Ha, ha, ha, “gifted under duress” and he laughs again.
From somewhere behind us we hear, “Never seen someone have so much fun at a government building, especially the BMV!”
THEnd
