I had forgotten how much I love the DMV. The last daughter to get the all important validation for getting behind the wheel of a motorized vehicle. Yes, she's is the final blond Roderick. You would think the DMV would have changed over the years, but, alas, it is not so.
We made an appointment and arrived half an hour early (this we have learned over the years). We were driving around the parking lot looking for the elusive spot. People were parked on neighborhood streets, the DMV parking lot is rather small, and one of the side streets was accommodating a "roach coach" that was doing a brisk business. The line of people to get into the building was serpentined around the outside. Hope and I looked at each other and prayed that was not our line.
We snatched a spot in the lot just as a guy was pulling out. Praise God. Now onto tackle the line . . . Praise God again, it was not ours . . . we were fourth in a smaller line, a line for appointments. The guard allowed us to enter. We went right up to the desk, right to our window, signed, wrote a check, picture, test. Just that fast.
I pulled out my knitting while I waited for Hope and scanned the large room full of humanity. It would seem every ethnicity was represented: Caucasian, Hispanic, Southeast Asian, African American, East Indian, Arab, etc. I love to people watch and this distraction, coupled with my busy hands, made the time go very quickly.
We were in and out of their in one hour flat. A new Roderick record. Sadly, Hope missed 10 (fail) and we will be back in a week to do it all over again.
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