DMV Mystery
by Scott Hardie on December 14, 2006
My last car, a 1996 Mercury, was registered in my mother's name, so every year in December (the month of her birthday), the registration sticker would be delivered to her at her house and she'd have to pass it to me to put on the license plate. No big deal.
A few months ago, I bought a 2007 Dodge in my name, though she co-signed the credit application since I had no credit history. The old license plate was transferred to the new car, but I was under the impression that the dealer took care of the paperwork with the Florida DMV.
Here's the mystery. A new registration sticker has arrived in December (her month not mine), for my car's license plate, delivered to her name at my apartment. At first I just assumed that the dealer must have registered the new car in her name by mistake, but then I noticed the fine print: The registration is for a 2005 Lincoln, her car that's in her garage as I type this, that she bought two years ago. The Dodge dealer had no idea what car she drove, so this couldn't have been the dealer's mistake.
What kind of mix-up does it take at a DMV to transfer a 2005 Lincoln's registration to a 2007 Dodge's license plate at an entirely different address without anyone asking? The question that troubles me more is, just how much bureaucratic paperwork is it going to take to solve this before my license plate expires on New Years?
One Reply to DMV Mystery
Logical Operator
The creator of Funeratic, Scott Hardie, blogs about running this site, losing weight, and other passions including his wife Kelly, his friends, movies, gaming, and Florida. Read more »
Dignity
Headline: Bush wishes Hussein execution was 'more dignified' Somewhere in an alternate universe: It's an election year, the Democratic candidate has just said exactly the same thing, and the Republican Party is ripping him a new asshole the size of Mars. Go »Blood Lines
A few weeks ago, I dropped a glass bottle of salad dressing on the kitchen floor, making the house smell like vinaigrette for a day. Today, I stepped on the last errant bit of glass hiding in a crack of tile by the corner. Better my foot than the cat's paw, I guess; I don't lick between my toes. Go »Trial of the Century
I served on my first jury last week, for the gripping case of the Walmart Protein Bar Bandit, accused of a $1.46 theft. Voir dire was oddly focused on whether grazing (eating groceries before you pay for them) was acceptable, whether eating protein right after a workout is important, and whether any of us had strong feelings about the Walmart corporation. Go »What We Kept
One winter in the mid-1970s, my grandfather Donald was hospitalized with a serious infection in his foot. Being diabetic, he went out of his way for years to avoid any infections or other hazards, but his luck had run out. On Christmas Day, he was informed by the doctors that they would have to amputate his foot the next morning. Go »Something Comes Along to Intervene
I've been enjoying "Meddle" and "Remedy" by Little Boots, two great electropop songs with catchy hooks, perfect for summer. But I didn't really take her seriously as an artist until I heard "Stuck on Repeat." It's pop music on acid, like Kylie Minogue produced by Captain Beefheart, and the unlikeliest hit song of the year. Go »
Scott Hardie | December 23, 2006
Some resolution: Upon comparing, my mom and I realized that our license plates are only one number apart. Her car's December registration was mailed to her at my address, which only means she needs to inform the DMV of an address change. It's weird such an error would occur, but at least it's not the much bigger and baffling error that it seemed to be.