Renewal

I made a deal with my twelve-year-old for this morning. If he accompanied me to the Department of Motor Vehicles to renew my driver's license when they opened at 8:30, we'd go to the middle school afterwards so he could "walk through" his schedule to get ready for the opening of school next Tuesday.

So off we went to the DMV in Bethpage. Stood on a line of about 20 people (which split into two windows) to handle license applications and renewals. At the window, the very cheerful and friendly woman (really!) asked me to provide my signature (which would be scanned for the license) and took my photo (which had not been updated in about 12 years). She told me that the picture came out good; let's see what I think when the license is sent to me! After about one minute we were done, and we got to go sit in a row of pews and wait for our number to come up on the big tote board.

At one point, F023 (three numbers before ours) came up for two windows at the same time, and then repeated three times on the tote board. An obvious computer glitch. My son, who expects unfailing wizardry with anything involving computers, announced, "This computer system sucks." I tried to explain to him how it used to be to go to DMV when I first got my learner's permit, 30 years ago, before any of the customer service was computerized. This is the stuff that nightmares are made of.

You had to show up at the huge building on Privado Road in Westbury, suffering through the local traffic to get near the place, and then circling around to find parking. The first prayer of the day was that you would later recall where you'd left the car. Entering the building with the rest of the sheep, you had to stand on Line 27 for at least three hours no matter what your transaction was. Once you'd survived that experience, you were physically and emotionally drained of whatever energy you'd had for the entire day. People weren't overly cooperative, and it was accepted that it was a necessary evil one had to endure to obtain or renew a license, register or surrender plates, etc. Any other Nassau County old timers recall this drudgery?

When our number came up on the big tote board, we went up to the counter and I had to take the eye test. Son found this amusing, and he did it too (which in turn amused the lady behind the counter). Son had to make sure that my receipt showed "Corrective Lenses Required" just to yank my chain and remind me that my distance vision has deteriorated in my old age. To further underscore the point, the charming lady admired my specs and asked me whether they were progressives (they aren't, but my ophthalmologist keeps threatening this for next year). All told, we were there for about an hour, which was pretty good according to me. Left plenty of time to truck around the school before I had to collect my personal belongings and head on in to work for a late shift. My son's parting shot as we left the DMV was that he'd show up here again in four years when it was time for him to get his learner's permit. Yikes!