Monday, May 30, 2011

there's a problem, officer...

So yesterday I was driving my dad’s car, which has temporary license plates. They are expired. Problem: we can’t get the real plates because we have yet to get the title from California. My brother gave us the car, and it was registered under his name in California. He didn’t have any reason to change it until he gave it to us. We’ve been trying to get the title from California for nearly 6 months.

As with everything government in California, it takes forever. I explained the situation to the officer, and showed him all of the paperwork to help my explanation. He took the papers and my license, went back to his car, and starting running the info through a computer. Usually this only takes five minutes. But no. He took fifteen. So I’m sitting there on a busy road with my window down (I didn’t know how long he would be, and the car has windows that you crank open or closed by hand, and sometimes it sticks) in the pouring rain getting soaked. I was trying not to cry because I was embarrassed to see people I know driving by—I was two blocks from my house. TWO.

The officer came back and handed me a ticket to sign, saying that there were two problems: the first was a warning for the expired plates. Not my fault. It’s California’s fault. We’re doing the best we can to get the plates, like calling them every week. Each time they’ve said that they sent them, then check the records and say, “Oh. Well, we thought we had. We’ll get them to you by the end of the week.” 6 months of that. Not my fault! The second: he wrote me a ticket for not being insured.

This first made me want to just jump off a bridge, and second (I never use this word, but I’m going to now) pissed me off. No insurance? He had the stupid insurance papers in his hand!! I am insured for every vehicle my family owns. I was there to sign the papers that are on file.

When I got home I was furious and threw a slight temper tantrum (and my keys). Then, of course, I started to cry. I was soaking wet, humiliated, angry, scared, and exhausted. The ticket instruction include a court summons thing, and a huge (and as of yet unknown) fine. It’s not even my fault, and half of the charge is wrong!! My dad looked it up with our insurance agent, who said that the cop is either an idiot or is an idiot. I guess he just made a mistake, but I’m mad enough to call him at least a halfwit. That’s a pretty dumb mistake to make, especially when he was holding my freaking insurance papers.

That was part of my Sunday. It was stupid.

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