I have to have my license renewed on my next birthday.
I happen to have a Very Good License Picture because I had my hair done special for it, and I told that lady to make sure I was smiling and had both my eyes open and I looked good. For some reason, she agreed to all that, so yay.
I do not want to give up that picture, because I am prone to stoppage by gentlemen in uniform who want to give me certificates for expedience in driving.
I thought I’d just go online and renew it, it being within the 150 day window and all, but NO, because I have a vision restriction.
Which I have had for all thirty years of being a licensed driver, and all seven years before reaching that age.
They tested my vision once, back in the late 20th century, when I got my learner’s license, and never again after that.
For all they know, I’ve been out driving around like Ray Charles since then.
I haven’t, but I could have been.
Ray Charles got a speeding ticket, you know, a few years before he shuffled off to his reward. His agent released a statement that “this was not Mr. Charles’ first time driving.”
I don’t know how much driving he did, but I don’t imagine he drove the tour bus or anything, or drove through Chicago or parallel parked, but it doesn’t surprise me that he liked to take the Lincoln out for a spin every now and again.
But anyway, back to me and my problems. When you fill out the online report, it asks you if you’re mentally impaired or do recreational drugs (I am not and do not), but how do they know I’m not lying? And yet, you get pegged as nearsighted one time and the rest of your life you have to find the place and go in person.
I’m not happy. And I was going to donate the dollar and everything.
I hate to tell you but, unless you have the new one with the lovely pink tone and the, count ’em, not one but THREE photos, as well as the raised signature (not in braille but just as legible I suppose?), then you’d be getting one without any vision correction. I went up in there after mowing the lawn expecting them to just renew mine with the lovely photo that was taken just after Roxanne Hammonds had perfectly colored and coifed my hair, only to discover that the whole world will now see me with red, splotchy, just-finished-mowing-the-lawn face and hair thrown up in a clip. It was the last day so I could not turn around and run. And, yes, all three photos are equally ugly… one in living color, two in black-n-white.
Au contraire, mon frere. I quit the browser and tried again. Same picture for the next eight years! Winning.
You are living properly. I, apparently, am not.