Could Be Worse

One of my favorite books as a child was James Stevenson's "Could Be Worse." It's a story about a grandfather who always tells his kids that it could be worse whenever anything goes wrong, then tells them a story of a time when all these fantastic things happened to him like: being carried off by a huge bird, floating on giant toast, flying in a newspaper airplane, etc.

Here's my version of "Could Be Worse." When we got back from Illinois in December, Chris told me that the registration on the Suburban needed to be renewed. I put that in a file somewhere in my mind behind cleaning the house, schooling the children, preparing for Young Women's, being a good friend, Doctor appointments, etc. Then....on January 30th, I got pulled over (apparently there is an unwritten grace period of one month). I received a ticket for the registration and safety inspection and was told that if I got the paperwork done and showed up with it in court, the judge would most likely not make me pay the ticket. Okay, not too bad. Then...on Tuesday, February 3, my friend and I swapped cars as we did the piano, library, dance class, preschool thing. Well, she got pulled over and received a warning to tell me to get the paperwork done and was told that he could've have given her a ticket eventhough it wasn't her car. I stayed home all day Wednesday, except for Young Women's when I took Chris' car. So....Thursday afternoon I get in my car again for the first time since she was pulled over, to head down to Pulaski to take Jared to art class. It doesn't take long before I get pulled over. I show the officer that I already have a ticket (it's still in the car where I put in on Friday). She lets me go with a warning that I need to get it done by this weekend (two days). I dropped Jared off for art class, went to my friend's house, left the kids with her and headed to the DMV. As I'm pulling into the DMV, I see another patrol car and I'm like, "They'd better not pull me over again, I'm getting it done." No problems, I get the registration renewed, it takes no more than five minutes, I go outside and put the tags on the car before I do anything else. Then I say to myselft, "Well, while I've got a babysitter, I'll just head over to King's Tires and see if I can get the safety inspection done. " As I'm pulling out of the DMV, I see another patrol car, but I think to myself, "I'm good now - I've got new tags." So I obliviously drive to King's Tires (apparently not looking once in my rear view mirror). As I pull into King's Tires (it's maybe a mile away from the DMV), I see blue lights once more. Now, I am generally a fairly calm person, and always repectful to authority figures, but one person can only handle so much - that said: The officer asks to see my liscense and registration and I say, "Is this about the safety inspection?" He confirms that it is and I...LOOSE IT! I start crying as I ramble something to the effect of, "You've got to be kidding me, can't you see that I'm sitting here in the parking lot of a state inspection site, it says so right there on the door, I am here to get the inspection and you're pulling me over for not having it done, I just want to go in there and get it done, I just pulled out of the DMV from getting my registration done, I AM TRYING TO DO WHAT'S RIGHT!!" To which he responds, "I know what this is, is that what your actually doing here? And may I see your liscense and registration!" I realize at this moment that I have just yelled at a police officer who has no idea what I've been through to get here, so I do the only thing that woman in my state could do. I apologize and give him my sob story about how I have four kids and homeschool them and have had no time, but I finally have a babysitter and just got my registration done if he'd let me go, I'd go get the inspection done, but they are closing shortly so I need to go. He kindly agrees and I walk into the shop completely embarrassed because everyone in the shop just watched this whole thing through their huge windows that line the front of the building.
I walk up to the counter and say, "Please tell me that you have time to do an inspection"...and before I can finish the mechanic is behind the customer service rep. shaking his head "No." Well, the faucet turns on again, along with the sob story, which includes..."I have been pulled over four times this week, twich today and once while sitting in your parking lot as you clearly saw, I cannot drive back to Dublin with that STICKER ON MY CAR!!" I guess when all else fails, losing a little dignity can be of some use, because they agreed to do the inspection and get it done as quickly as possible (I guess that was a more appealing option than having to call the police to come back and take me to the mental hospital, seeing as how they closed in 20 min.). Twenty minutes later a mechanic comes back and very carefully says, "Mam, I hate to make your day any worse, but you have a really bad pitarm in your steering column." I'm like, "I have a bad what?" Anyhow, he gives me a quote of $84 to get it repaired and tells me it will only be $1 to come back and get the safety inspection sticker if it's all done within 15 days. At this point, all I want is to go home, so I say okay and shaking like a scared puppy, go back to my friend's house to tell her and her husband (who, happens to be a sheriff's deputy) the whole story.
Now, a day later, I have resigned myself not to drive my car in the daytime until we can get it fixed and I'm trying to look on the bright side. So, I'm saying to myself, "Could be worse, I could live in a city where crimes are actually committed on a regular basis and the police officers are too busy catching criminals to worry about every vehicle whose tags are one month overdue." Having said that, I have learned a lesson and I promise all those highly organized individuals who always pay their bills on time, that I will never again forget to get my vehicle registration renewed before the tags expire, even if I have to take all four of my kids into the DMV, wait for hours on end, and pay the extra $5 for doing it in person. Never again, do I want to expose myself to being treated like I'm Americas Most Wanted.