After my experiences in New York, I would rather go to the dentist than the DMV.
“Any trip to the DMV is a time-sucking nightmare” is such a deeply established cultural cliche that it was even parodied in a darn Disney movie. I’m going through a particularly awful saga with New York’s DMV right now, so obnoxious that I will eventually write a blog about it when it’s all over. Meanwhile, I’d like to know; what’s your DMV horror story?
Look, no personal offense intended towards those of you who may be employed by our nation’s various government agencies charged with regulating road travel. Sitting behind a sneeze shield stamping papers and passing license plates does not look particularly fun, and I’m 100% sure there are plenty of DMV customer horror stories, too.
I’ll also concede that I’m an atypical car registration customer… moving vehicles between states, having ancient cars with non-standard VINs, buying stuff for cash with bills-of-sale written in crayon on bar napkins. Surely the DMV folks roll their eyes when I walk in the door.
But here’s a horror story I’m embarrassed to say I’ve encountered twice: Trying to register a new-to-me car in the state of New York, where the insurance information has me as “Andrew P. Collins” but other documents simply have “Andrew Collins.” As a result, I had to do the paperwork all over again and make a second trip.
The first time I was truly annoyed. The place I live in NY is quite rural, so making the journey to a DMV outpost (in the middle of a work day because they’re not open outside typical office hours) is a whole thing. The second time I was even more upset because a year had gone by and I’d forgotten the middle-initial discrepancy from my last visit! Never had such an issue in another state, but alas.
I’m here to hear your stories this time. I’ll have a better (worse) one for you soon. And if you missed the Disney DMV sloths from the 2016 animated gem Zootopia, enjoy:
Let us hear your horror story in the comments.
