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Martha Stewart & Me
Rich Galen Friday July 29, 2005
This is the more-or-less true story of the run-in with The Man that the Mullings Director of Standards & Practices and I had this past weekend.
I was standing in the newsroom at the Fox bureau in Washington, Saturday, when my cell phone rang. It was the MD of S&P. The conversation went something like this:
Rich?
Yes.
I've been stopped by the police.
What for?
For not having insurance on the car.
You have insurance. We just got the new cards last week.
He said that my license has been suspended and he made me get out of the car and he took my license.
What did he say when you showed him the insurance card?
He said that didn't mean anything, that the computer said my license was suspended and I can't drive my car home.
Well, I've got to go on the air in about 10 minutes. I'll come home and get your car and we'll get this straightened out. I drove the Skippy Scooter in, so it will probably be about an hour.
I hung up and started telling everyone in the newsroom about my wife having her license suspended because of no insurance but we've never not had insurance and how it was all a real hoot when my phone rang again. It was the MD of S&P:
Two more things.
What.
One. Don't do what you always do and tell everyone about this.
Um. Ok. I won't.
Two. Your license has been suspended, too.
WHAT??!!
That took it right out of the realm of amusement.
It turned out that the vehicle on that was uninsured was a 1992 Mercedes which, as it happened, we no longer owned. In a burst of good citizenship we had donated it to the Salvation Army last December.
By the time I got home, the MD of S&P had spoken to the insurance company which had faxed a copy of the last insurance card on that car. We had donated it in December but hadn't cancelled the insurance until March.
The Virginia DMV is, of course, closed on weekends.
Our next door neighbor agreed to ride on the back of the Skippy to get the MD of S&P's car and drive it home - something neither of us was allowed to do.
It is interesting that when I can drive where ever I want, it takes an atomic bomb to pry me off the couch in the den. But as soon as I knew I wasn't allowed to drive I had 10,327,859 different places I absolutely needed to be. Immediately.
I know, now, what Martha Stewart feels like. I found a collar from when Titus the Granddog lived with us and put it around my ankle.
Solidarity, man.
On Monday morning we went to the Alexandria office of the Department of Motor Vehicles and explained the problem to the lady behind the counter.
Did you turn in the license plates?
I didn't know I was supposed to. I mean what if I needed them to repair the side of my barn, right next to the Chew Mailpouch sign? But look. Here's the receipt from the Salvation Army.
How do I know that's a real receipt?
It's good enough for the IRS. Why isn't it good enough for the Virginia DMV? [Remember those words.]
The people in Alexandria couldn't decide this thorny issue so we had to call Richmond. The MD of S&P explained that she had called them when we first got a notice about this insurance thing and was told that it was taken care of.
She was assured that she could get a new license so long as she had two pieces of ID which showed her birthdate. The MD of S&P said she had her passport. She was told she needed her birth certificate as well.
I said I would go first and see if my passport was enough.
Is this the only ID you have with your birth date?
"If it's good enough for the US Department of State," I said, "Why isn't it good enough for the Virginia DMV?
The woman saw my point and issued me a new license. And repeated the act for the MD of S&P after which me and Ma Barker Galen took a cab home, got in our cars, and drove to work.
Legally.
--END --
Copyright © 2005 Richard A. Galen
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