{ Thursday, January 23, 2003 }

Back to the Courthouse.

My favorite quote last night "I have a master's degree and my daughter pays bills professionally and we can't decipher my damned phone bill." -- Mom to the customer service line of her phone company.

This morning I got up at six thirty in the morning. Went with Mom to her fiance's house. Tried to start my car. No dice. Tried to pop Mom's hood to jump my car. It wouldn't pop. I pushed, Mom sat in the car. I don't think Mom knew what she was doing and so the car did not push start. Fuck. Went inside. Got some pliers. Tried really fucking hard to pop mom's hood. Nope. Called AAA. They won't come because the car doesn't have plates. Called MomsFiance. Went back outside and tried some more to pop the hood. Nope. Called MomsFiance. Got directions to take his car out of the barn and use it to jump my car. We have success.

Cue the trembling driving girl. She turns left onto the street she wwas told to take to the courthouse. It isn't ploughed. She thinks about the way the road twists and turns and has big ass hills. She knows other ways to get to the courthouse. She'll take the interstate if she has to. She turns around and gets back on the main road. She has some skidding action and almost cries. But nothing else bad happens from the little tiny bit of fishtailing. She lights a cigarette.

Cue Mom pulling up behind the car. Cue an long line of cars behind the trembling, driving girl as she travels 15 mph below the speed limit in her new car with no tags. Watch the girl try to find the ashtray without driving off the road. See the girl fail. Watch the girl as she smokes the cigarette until it literally goes out and then shoves the butt in her bag. Wow, that girl really doesn't want her mom to know that "mary ann quit smoking" is a big fat fucking lie.

Cue Mom pulling up to the car at a red light. Watch the girl lean over the car and roll down the passenger window. Girl is told again to go to the courthouse. Thanks. Mom suggests four other roads she could go down. Girl tries very hard not to remind Mom that she used to work between here and the courthouse for six years and she does know where she's going. Fortunately the light turns green and resolve is not too tested.

Somehow she makes it to the courthouse with only one small "Why is there so much salt on my windshield and oh my god where is the mister I just made it so much worse! Why isn't it misting! Where can I pull off the road and wipe off my windshield? I'll never know because I can see nothing! Oh, thanks big truck for splashing me and rendering me able to see again." fiasco.

She manages to park in the courthouse. We think the adventure is over.

I walk in to the titling office. I am given more papers, I am now carrying around a county phone book's worth of printed materials. Then I am sent to the sheriff's office for inspection. That guy was so nice. So nice. He's that friendly. He inspects my car and sends me back to the title office. They shoot me down again. No plates for me. Everyone tells me I can just drive like that until I get plates. Which they say will take two weeks. WTF? I call Mom.

Mom says to drive the car to her school and we'll work from there.

I comply. Two miles later, I get pulled over. I explain my situation and hand them my beauracratic nightmare of paperwork. They totally understand and send me on my way saying that should happen regularly from now until whenever I get plates. I didn't cry. I am so brave sometimes.

Thirty miles later, I arrive at her school. She's teaching sixth grade boys sex-ed. They ask stupid questions. My favorite: "Are testicles just like, your, you know, nuts? And the scrotum is just your sack?". Go That Boy's Parents. Way to teach your kid the names of his own body parts. Mom and I marvel that they didn't have one question about menstruation, but they don't know what testicles are.

Mom fills out the rest of the paperwork. Mom calls around. Paperwork will be done tomorrow at two. Plates can be obtained Monday. Mom fucking rocks. I just have to drop this all off 30 miles away.

I drive to the drop off point. The woman there apologizes about a thousand times and tells me I went to the wrong court house and my mother should've known better. I have to go back to the courthouse that is less than a mile from Mom's school. I use her restroom and I am now on my third super absorbency tampon in five hours. I go back.

The sheriff's guy there is also super nice. He is very efficient and helpful. He signs my paper. I go the 30 miles back to the woman I am to leave the papers with. She takes them. I'm done. I can go home.

I drove back to Lexington, stopping for cat food. My cute little car and I are home and only 200 miles or so worse for the wear. The car runs great and apparently gets superb gas mileage.

posted by mary ann 1:19 PM