I hate the DMV

I have to go to the DMV tomorrow because I lost my car registration.

This is most annoying because:

1) I need it to receive a campus parking permit, which means I have to pay for parking

2) My registration expires in March and I don’t want to pay for a certified copy of one that expires in two months.

The only good thing in all this? I didn’t get pulled over the night my speedometer and tachometer froze.

I thought I was doing 25 MPH on the highway at that point but the engine was screaming at me to shift. I was confused because the tach only said 0. (Should have been a clue that something was seriously wrong. However, I forgot D.O.D.‘s main rule of driving: remove head, insert key.  Whoops.)  In my defence, the traffic had been stop and go so 25 seemed totally reasonable. It wasn’t until after I shifted that I realised I was pretty fucked. One of the best things my never ending road trips have ever done for me is give me an excellent relationship with my car. Seriously. I can tell when I’m doing over 65 and it’s abundantly clear when I’m doing over 75. Once I realised that the speedo and tach were frozen in place (literally frozen), I calmed down and started to let my car tell me what to do.

By the time the needles returned to where they belonged, I was holding steady at 65. Exactly.

It’s probably best that I was able to do that… Could you imagine the conversation if I got pulled over?

“Do you know how fast you were going?” “Honestly? I have no fucking idea. Literally.”