I Am Free To Go


My thankful thought for the day? That I’m able to drive.


I love driving. My best conversations are had while staring at blacktop and listening to road noise. The lure of wide open spaces, a full tank of gas and a map are almost irresistible.


And then today I looked into my wallet and realized my drivers license expired two days ago.


Uh, oh.


My wings were clipped. It was a sad day. I made immediate plans to visit the Motor Vehicle Division, something I’d been putting off for, oh, the five months or so since we moved.


I just returned from the MVD, I am no longer illegal, I’m free to roam the roads and drive whatever vehicle takes my fancy (don’t worry, Stella, I won’t be trading you in any time soon.)


As I was waiting for my number to light up like a Christmas tree I decided the MVD is the great equalizer of social class. There were all sorts of people there: a gal with a baby on her hip, a Native American octogenarian renewing his license, a college guy getting permission to drive his death trap of a motorcycle.


We were all there, at the mercy of the government, trying to get our acts together.


It made me happy. I realize I’m a part of a tribe.


The tribe of drivers.


How was your last experience at the MVD?

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