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Late last year, Ma Nuo, a contestant on the popular Chinese TV dating show If You Are the One, became known as “the BMW woman” after confessing that she’d, “rather cry in a BMW than smile on a bicycle.” ** My seventeen year old BMW needed to be retired, and with the limited funds on hand, my choices were limited. I purchased a used KIA Sorrento. Not a move up, nor even a lateral move. But I needed a reliable vehicle with low miles, that could tow a dinghy trailer, and had a cargo area for the dog. The KIA fit the criteria. It’s less than five years old with super low miles, under a transferable extended warranty, meticulously maintained, and within my small budget. The vehicle’s original owner was a Vietnam vet who died a month or so earlier, from complications of Agent Orange no less. The title was signed off by the vet’s mother and sister, aka executor, and sat in a plain white envelope on my kitchen island. This counter is, at times (okay - always), piled with stuff. Paperwork, mail, kid stuff, family stuff, you name it -stuff- semi-organized stacks of stuff. Because the purchase took all of our available cash, I had to wait for a few clients to pay Himself before I had the funds to register it. The title in the plain white envelope was safe for weeks, just sitting there on the island. Three weeks later, when the funds came in, I gathered documents to register the vehicle, except I couldn’t find the plain white envelope with the title. After looking a few more days, and reliving the moment when I realized I may have “thrown the wrong plain white envelope away” in my manic moment of cleaning up the stacks, I contacted the still grieving mom and sister to sign an application for a duplicate title. Within a few days after that, I was heading into town to both drop my teenaged niece off at the airport, and to finally register the KIA. The DMV is located about 20 miles away and I like to group my trips into town to save gas and time. As I checked my niece (an unaccompanied minor) in at the ticket counter, I realized that I had left my checkbook, along with my driver’s license, sitting on the kitchen island. My first crime of the day. Luckily, no one asked to see any ID, and the niece was loaded on the plane, waved bye-bye to and flew off. Now the Teenager, Last Son and I were off to the DMV. I was now scrambling to figure out how I was going to pay the registration and sales tax without my checkbook.My solution? Use a credit card, and as for a Driver’s License ID, well who else by the DMV would have a copy of that? My wait at DMV was less than five minutes. Fantastic! My paperwork was in order. I approached the clerk’s window where the sign, “No Credit Cards Accepted, Cash and Checks Only” greeted me. Not looking good, but no worries, I did have my Debit Card with me, so same as writing a check, right? The clerk tallied the fees, and, in fact, she did it twice, and then had them checked by another clerk. Was there a problem? Oh, yeah, but the clerk was actually trying to verify that the total of fees was really correct. Unfortunately, they were. I was one day-yes, only one day- late on timely registering the vehicle. This one day added over $300 in penalties, and taxes on the penalties, to my bill.The clerk had a sense of humor, at my expense of course, and took the Debit Card for payment. When she asked for ID, she still thought it humorous that she had to look up my license info. “Yep, that’s you.” She verified as my license came up on the screen. “Did you drive the vehicle here, without a license?” She asked. “Yes.” I just admitted to driving without a license. The kids were right there next to me. Was I going to get a ticket, here in the DMV? Nope, just a look and shake of the head from the clerk - whose humor was waning. Handing her my Debit Card, I looked forward to leaving with new plates, title, and registration. Really, just getting out of there. This day was looking like a “glass of wine at 5:00 p.m. kind of day.” After several swipes of my Debit Card the clerk came back to the window, “There are insufficient funds to cover the transaction.” She said. She wasn’t smiling anymore.
“Let me call home and see what the problem might be.” I felt a slight flush starting on my face while I pulled out the cell phone and dialed Himself. After explaining to Himself that I forgot my checkbook and was trying to use the Debit Card, he went online, verified there was plenty of money to cover the registration and taxes. I then had to confess that there was now an additional $300 plus that was added on top. “Well, we have it in the account, but it just took this week’s grocery and gas budget.” I confirmed there was sufficient funds with the clerk, but the card still wouldn’t work. I do have a daily limit on Debit withdrawals. So, I left the DMV with an enormous stack of unprocessed paperwork, got into my vehicle and drove home illegally. Returning the next morning, with checkbook and license, I got a different clerk who re-processed the paperwork and sympathetically shook his head as he took my check. “That’s a lot of money in penalties.” Yes, I know, now let’s move it along shall we? “Did you give the Disabled Vet plates back to the owner?” He asked. “He’s dead.” I responded. “I’ll need new plates.” “Have you driving the vehicle with those Disabled Vet plates on it?” He asked. “Well, yes, I thought having plates on the vehicle was better than taking them off and driving around without any.” I thought this was a prudent reply to a trick question. “It is illegal to drive a vehicle with Disabled Vet plates if they don’t belong to you.” It is? Who knew? “You must take them off right away, and give them back to the owner.” Again, I’m back to contacting the grieving mother and sister. “I will.” I was out of banter by this time. Get me out of here! It was 4:00 when I finally reached home with the official registration, title, and new plates. I promptly opened a bottle of wine. This was definitely a 4:00 p.m. time for-wine-day. |
Friday, August 26, 2011
A Day Late and More Than A Dollar Short!
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