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Vision tests, written exams, fees: sounds like a birthday to me

By Chris La Pelusa

I recently celebrated my birthday. And by celebrated, I mean I spent the bulk of the morning at the DMV. Not a bad place for birthdays if you like that grayish, semi-depressive atmosphere (wait a minute, thatā€™s exactly like birthdays). The DMV is like The Bad News waiting room.

When I visited the DMV eighteen years ago to the day (heck, to the hour), to first get my driverā€™s license, the DMV was an icon of freedom. Yes, we were jam-packed like sardines in a can, but at the end of it, one ton of metal on four wheels was waiting to take me away from my bicycle for the rest of my life. I could endure the claustrophobia.

Admittedly, the Woodstock DMV is less crowded and more spacious than the Niles location, where I got my first license (and a practical heaven compared to the Elston Ave. location, where people literally fell into the tiles never to be seen again), but itā€™s the DMV nonetheless. And this year my license was up for renewal, which meant (thanks to one rotten ticket in 10 years) I had to take a written test in addition to the visual exam ā€“ not to mention the $30 fee plus (thereā€™s always a plus with the DMV) the $.60 fee for using my debit card (a detail everyone seemed to know about except for me. Of the 100 people in line, I was the ONLY one to not pay cash.)

The celebration began a couple months ago when I got the renewal diagnosis, I mean notification, in the mail. From the first word, I knew this was going to be less than thrilling, as I quickly realized my license expired 11 days before I was to move into my new home. How should I handle the address change? Am I supposed to go renew my driverā€™s license with my current address, then go back in 11 days to do the entire process over again to get my new address?

Of course not, said the DMV when I called to inquire. You can give us any address you want. We canā€™t prove where you live. Perfect, I thought. Iā€™ll just tell them my new address and hope I donā€™t get pulled over in the meantime.

But, he said to me, you need about a dozen documents to prove you live there (turned out I only needed my darned current driverā€™s license, but what should you expect?). I later found out that I can just call the DMV after I move and alert them of the address change, and so long as I donā€™t mind that my license has my former address on it, itā€™s okay with them because their computers and police computers will have the correct address. As thrilling as any visit to the DMV is, I opted to keep my former address.

As usual, I got lost going to the DMV on the day of my visit, thanks to MapQuest. And in getting lost, it was like driving through a road test. Literally, as I toured Woodstock, everything from road construction to school busses (on a Saturday in summer, mind you!) to kids running out in the middle of the street was thrown at me.

When I finally got there, I informed the guard at the front desk why I was there, and he pointed to a line to my left like he was the Grim Reaper pointing a bony-fingered way to the death realm.

The clerk behind the vision station was very nice and friendly, though, so that helped, and thanks to her good graces, I didnā€™t fail my vision test. I say this because when I left for the DMV, I accidentally took the wrong pair of glasses, which have a lower prescription. I looked into the viewfinder, and the clerk told me to read the second of the three lines. I couldnā€™t read anything! So there I was, gripping the sides of the viewfinder, squinting at the light at the end of a long, black tunnel. Finally, I was able to make out the letters, and I read them fast, as if to fool the clerk into thinking there wasnā€™t a problem: ā€œAS12 QRF5 XUM8.ā€

ā€œEight?ā€ she asked, accusingly.

I squinted harder. ā€œNine, Iā€™m sorry, itā€™s nine.ā€

ā€œNow,ā€ she instructed, ā€œtell me if you see the flashing red lights on the right, left, or both.ā€

I kept looking…and looking…and looking…and nothing. I couldnā€™t believe this was happening to me. I actually started to wonder if Iā€™d lost my peripheral vision due to some unknown illness. I started to worry, thinking maybe this was a trick.

Then the clerk said, ā€œWait a minute, look at me.ā€

I did, shamed. She exclaimed, ā€œItā€™s your glasses! The rims are too thick. Take them off.ā€

I did as she suggested, planted my head back into the view finder, and there were the flashing red lights on both sides, thank goodness!

ā€œYou passed,ā€ she said. ā€œHereā€™s your ticket, step to the cashier.ā€

There, I was given my written test. All I have to say about this is, if school tests were like the DMVā€™s, I would have done much better in school. The test seems to be designed to keep people on the road. There were 20 questions in total, and 20 road signs I had to match. Of the 20 questions, 18 a person whoā€™d never put their hands on a steering wheel could answer, with 2 complicated questions thrown in so no one can accuse the DMV of giving it away. All in all, I got one question wrong (about when you can/canā€™t pass a school bus; the question was so turned around, Iā€™m not even sure a school bus driver would get it right), and two road signs (sue me, I thought a RR crossing sign was a white circle).

In the end, I was rewarded with a new driverā€™s license. Normally, I end my Happy Trails with some sort of punch line or hook. In this case, Iā€™ll let my driverā€™s license photo suffice for both. Take a look!





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