WTF-J

So, in an earlier installment, the State declared that the WTF-J was in fact a Jeep, but it was still "locked" within the confines of the driveway and could not be operated on public roads until properly registered.  (For that matter, the home owners’ association in our subdivision has an explicit covenant prohibiting unregistered vehicles in the driveway!)  WTF-J, despite the writ of certiorari resulting in a Title,  was still a prisoner.   Ohio’s rules tie vehicle registration dates to the owner’s birth date, thus it made sense to defer the registration by a week.  Turns out that my daughters were planning on a vanity plate as the perfect birthday present, so the timing ended up being a win-win! 

Ohio has a nifty Web based process for reserving vanity plates, but requires an existing registration/tag number.  New registrations use a PDF based form, but require an in-person visit.  While you can’t complete the registration, you can check to see whether the personalized plate is available, and "WTF J" came up a winner.

Bright and early on Monday morning, with completed form in hand and a blank check, I headed down to the Bureau of Motor Vehicles ("BMV") office.  The clerk checked on their official computers and sho’ nuff, the WTF-J will be officially known by the State as "WTF J" (No dashes are available on Ohio license plates.)  Five minutes and $93.75 later later I have the magic paper.  Woo Hoo!  (Note: The Ohio BMV continues to impress.  Every single interaction has been pleasant, efficient, and anything but bureaucratic.  Wish I understood why they get it and the US Postal Service counter staff doesn’t) 

One problem is that all of the instructions are to put the temporary tag in the back window.  Ummm, the WTF-J doesn’t have one, but that’s a secondary issue at best.

Made a couple of laps around the sub-division to make sure that everything was working.  (OK, I’ll admit it; the route of the maiden voyage kept me within walking distance of the trailer that was hooked to the pickup in case the WTF-J developed the automotive equivalent of stage fright.)  It was all good, so the time came to venture out to get in on some of that $3.55/gal. gas. 

Safely made it back to the subdivision, but stopping at a friend’s house set off an alarm at the home front when my wife came home and the WTF-J was inexplicably MIA.  The absence prompted her to call my mobile to confirm that I wasn’t broken down on the side of the road. 

Beyond the contribution to global warming, one other byproduct of all the driving around included the GPS and the compass in the mirror finishing their calibration routines, so the WTF-J now knows where it’s at and has a good sense of direction.  (We should all be so fortunate.)  I also realized that big tires, big horsepower and a fairly short wheelbase is r-e-a-l sensitive to tire pressure and wheel alignment!

One of my daughters suggests that the WTF-J is like a new child in our household; if that’s true, then today is similar to that day when your youngest child takes their first steps, but given the paper from the State, let’s call it Graduation Day.