Or, Good Times at the California Department of Motor Vehicles.
And no, I'm not talking about Florida and James and JJ saying, "DY-NO-MITE!!" Good Times, I'm talking about what should have been the simple act of transferring title.
At the end of 2009, like, December 30th, we purchased a previously owned KTM 250 for Thing 1 to ride in the Kenda National Hare & Hound Series. 2 days after getting the bike, Thing 1 had his little tip over and ended up with the broken knee cap.
So, we were kind of slow in getting the title transfer taken care of. Flash forward most of the year and Thing 1 tells me he needs this done before October 10. Which is in 6 days. According to Thing 2, I "don't do ANYTHING" during the day so naturally, it fell on me to take care of this issue. Even though it's not MY dirt bike. Although it is now as it's MY name on the new title since I was the one who had to endure the DMV.
Anyway, our local Auto Club does not handle off-road vehicle registration/title stuff so I had to make an appointment with the DMV. I made this appointment about 2 months ago and today was the first available appointment. Why wait to the last minute, right?
And this is when the fun starts. For starters, we are having a rare day of not-quite-rain but a really, really heavy drizzle. Which is kind of bizarre considering exactly one week ago we had record breaking temperatures. So I'm driving to the DMV, which is located a couple of towns away and since people in So Cal do not know how to drive in the rain, it's ugly out there. Couple of cars spinning out and one off into the iceplant and oh, it's just lovely. I had a vague recollection of where the DMV office was so I asked TheManTheMyth and he told me it was right off Bellflower and Woodruff.
I don't know what crack he was smoking but the DMV is nowhere near Woodruff. Why he didn't just tell me it was a little ways past the now-closed, infamous "Fritz's, That's It!" titty bar, I don't know because EVERYONE knows where Fritz's' is/was and I would have been fine. But he didn't tell me that so I ended up going in the wrong direction and by the time I figured it out, I was a few miles from my destination and the clock was ticking down for my 10:40am appointment time.
I pull into the parking lot and spent the next 10 minutes circling and circling and circling to no avail. There wasn't a single available parking spot. And the streets where the DMV is located is permit-only parking and the little Ticket Truck was having a field day writing up tickets left and right for all the non-permitted cars belonging to people who had business at the DMV. The City of Bellflower made quite a nice chunk of change this morning, just in parking tickets. I think the DMV is in cahoots with the City of Bellflower by not providing ample parking thus causing people to park illegally. Bastards.
I finally park in the parking lot of a church a couple of blocks away, but not before checking very carefully for any "No Parking" signs. Ok, I'm safe. So I hoof it to the DMV, through the heavy, heavy drizzle and I'm getting all wet and cranky and I get to the DMV and there's a line stretching the entire length of the building.
Well, I have an appointment, I don't need to stand in no stinking line and I walk up to the door and the doorman slash security guard tells me I have to go back and stand in line. "But I have an appointment," I say and he says, "That's nice now go back and stand in line." Bastard.
So I'm standing in the heavy, heavy drizzle, getting wetter and crankier and seeing my appointment time come AND go and I finally get to the door and the doorman slash security guard asks me my business and I say, "I have an appointment for a vehicle registration" and he says, "You didn't need to stand in line if you have an appointment" and I'm all, "But...but...but" and I go up to the Window and they ask when my appointment is and I say, "10 minutes ago" and they tell me I'm late (Duh!) and I'm all "Dude at the door wouldn't let me in" and they give me a number and tell me to wait.
FINALLY, my number is called and I present my pink slip and sign here, here and here. Oh, and don't forget to sign here. And then, Mr. DMV Registration Guy says, "That'll be $269.00" and I'm all, "Exsqueeze me?" and he repeats, "269.00" and I'm all, "American Dollars?" and he does not "get" my humor and repeats, "$269.00." And before I know it, I am bent over and grabbing my ankles as I get royally screwed by the DMV. Without lube. Or a drink first to loosen me up.
TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY NINE DOLLARS in American Money just to change the name on the title on a friggin' used dirt bike. I was expecting a fee of, oh I don't know, $50.00. Not TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY NINE. And no, there weren't any late fees. But wait, it gets better.
The guy we bought the bike from gave us the pink slip but he didn't sign it to release the title. And he wouldn't give us the red sticker that is required by law until we changed the title. Because of this, the DMV would not give me an operating permit OR new red sticker because the paperwork is incomplete. And of course, this was relayed to me only AFTER I paid.
So now, I'm out $269.00 and I still don't have a valid title or operating permit. And without the operating permit, this bike can't be raced this Sunday. Lovely.
Anyone know how long it will be before I can walk normal again?