Carry Me Back To Ol' Virginny - Part II

I'm off to get my driver's license renewed this morning.

For many people, this would provide a perfect opportunity for kvetching, but I have always found my run-ins with the gov'mint of the great Commonwealth of Virginia to be painless and professional. Last time I renewed, I zipped right in and out, despite the fact that the DMV bureau was crawling with customers, most of whom apparently could not speak English. Similarly, Virginia always gets our tax refund back to us quickly (far faster than the Feds) and one year even amended our return on its own initiative to save us some money.

The only exception to this pleasant rule of thumb seems to come with the State Police. Not too long ago, one of their troopers damn near killed me and my family by bolting out on to I-95 from the left shoulder right in front of us. Another time, as I crawled around an accident site in the middle of a raging thunderstorm, a trooper came all the way over to tap on my windshield because my inspection sticker was expired. Jerk.

Then there was the time we got a letter from the State Police stating that we had been flagged going through the EZ Pass toll booth lane on the Dulles Toll Road in excess of 45 mph and not to do it again. But since the EZ Pass was registered in the Missus' name - and the letter was therefore addressed to her, I didn't feel too put out about that one. Heh. (This was before we had kids, btw. Now, the thought of being left alone with them in the event the Missus got carted off fills me with unalloyed horror. Given that, I have designated myself as the official family Sidney Carton. No matter who is at fault, I'll take the rap.)

Having given the DMV props, I've now probably put a hex on the whole thing. We shall see.

UPDATE: My faith in the Virginia DMV is preserved. I got in before the lunchtime push and got my business done in 15 minutes. I even got a half-way decent picture this time. It is truly strange to have a license now that won't expire until the year 2010.