The last part of the saga of the car inspection will be fairly boring. I won’t belabor the point. We have a new muffler and the car passed inspection!
Huge sigh of relief.
4:36pm yesterday, driveway of our house: Arrived home from work. Sprayed the bejeezus out of the bolts. They will bow to my will, I swear it.
5:12pm yesterday, driveway: Brought out tool kit. Success! After a few minutes, bolts came loose. Excellent. Left license plate in place until the morrow.
7:56am today, leaving for work: I am completely awesome, I solved the problem and even remembered to bring the wrench with me to remove the plate at the RMV. Plan is to attend my meeting across town 8:00-9:00, drive directly to RMV which opens at 9:00, hand in plates, get car inspected, be at desk by 10 at the latest. Yes, I am awesome.
8:09am, hurrying from parked car to 8:00 meeting: Gah! Why am I always late??
8:12am, leaving meeting: Okay, good news is that I didn’t have to be at this meeting. Bad news is that RMV not open yet, have to go to office first.
10:01am, in office: RMV online says that wait time is zero. I will go, hand in my plates, get car inspected, be back in no time. Once again I am awesome.
10:13am, RMV waiting area: Had to wait in line to get a number. Slip of paper with number says predicted wait time is zero. So, why are all these people here?
10:22am, RMV waiting area: Apparently RMV does not know the definition of zero.
10:26am, RMV parking lot: Success! New plates, new registration, the awesomeness continues. I will attach new plates, get car inspected, be back at office by 10:45.
10:30am, driving out of RMV parking lot: Since I need the car to pass the emissions test this year, I should probably drive around for a few minutes to make sure the engine is warmed up. I am clever and awesome.
10:42am, pulling into inspection place parking lot: Sweet, there’s no one here. This will be the quickest inspection ever.
10:47am, inspection place waiting room: Morning talk shows are a travesty of stupidity. I hate tv.
10:50am, inspection place waiting room: Inspection man comes in and says, “We’re all set.” Wahoo! “You just have to fix one thing.” Huh? “You need a new muffler.” Awesomeness is fading away… “See you in a few days!”
To sum up: new license plates with new number, new registration. And… brand new inspection sticker with a big red R on it. I can only assume it’s R for Reject.
As a result of my begging and implicitly invoking the damsel in distress technique, “our guy” will replace the muffler tomorrow. To be continued…
Goal: to trade in the license plates in order to have car inspected
Attempt #1: At the RMV parking lot. I used my handy carry-it-everywhere Leatherman and removed the front license plate. “Easy peasy!” I thought. I’ll pop the other one off and away we go. Unfortunately, the bolts on the rear license plate are rusted and stuck. Darnit, I knew I should have brought some WD-40.
Attempt #2: No problem, I can still solve this. Drive over to my beloved local hardware store, ask for advice on what substance would be best for getting stuck bolts to budge, and buy the suggested substance. “I’m so clever,” I thought. “I’m going to spray this stuff on the bolts right away so that it will have a chance to sink in and loosen the bolts while I drive back to the RMV.” Back in the RMV parking lot, I pull out my trusty multitool and…. the bolts are still stuck. Bad words. Time’s up, I’ll have to go back to work and try this again later. With dynamite if necessary. Just kidding.
Stay tuned for the continuing story!
My darling Weez was home for about 48 hours, and is now on her way back to Lexington. Poor thing. While she was here, her plan was to get her car inspected so that she could have “our guy” do any repairs that might be necessary for her venerable Ford Focus to pass inspection. Unfortunately, the wild winter weather here did so much damage to her license plates that he sent her off to the RMV to get new plates. Have you ever heard the advice that you should never go to the RMV on a Monday or a Friday? Yeah.
So we had a mid-afternoon conversation about what to do. I suggested the RMV in the town where she’s working, but the hours that they are open are completely contained within the hours she works, which makes it less than convenient. We hung up, feeling like the Universe really should give us a BREAK already. The thought then crossed my mind, “If I were a good wife, I would offer to switch vehicles.” Groan. I dialed and made the suggestion. So, Weez is driving the truck, which gets about 17 miles to the gallon, on her 120 mile per day commute. I am driving her station wagon, and will be visiting the RMV and the inspection station (hopefully not “our guy” to have it fixed, if the gods are kind to us) during at least one lunch hour this week.
In good news, it turns out we’re not going to get kicked out of the neighborhood for bad lawn management! Just kidding. I mean, we have terrible lawn management, but our neighborhood isn’t that kind of place. In any case, Weez managed to mow the jungle while she was here, so I don’t have to go into hiding whenever I see one of our neighbors. To be fair, I have terrible lawn management skills, and Weez hasn’t been here. Plus our lawn mower is broken. Did I forget to mention that? Yes, that lawn mower is out for repairs.
Our riveting drama parade marches on. I think we’re almost to the finale. Hopefully it will be terribly anticlimactic. We’ve had enough, thank you very much.