MaineCourse

Shifting Gears

Matthew called me from his class. I was hanging blueboard so it took me a minute to answer.
“Dad, we need to register the car.”
I knew what he was asking and why, but it was the consequence that grabbed my attention and I stalled for time.
“Your instructor said so?”
“No, I picked this out of thin air.”
Teenagers don’t tolerate anything but tack-sharp clarity. However, I didn’t want to register it, to begin paying insurance and to know we were that much closer to Matthew driving.
“Why?”
“In case something happens, he wants to have proof of ownership.”
I knew there was more to it than that, the title made the car ours, but I also knew there was no reason to argue. For him to bring his BMW to his auto mechanics class, we would have to make everything nice and legal.

That was Tuesday. Today Diane and I drove to the Bureau of Motor Vehicles, title in hand, to pick up our plates. It was easy except that Diane was tired, the woman behind the desk not too bright and the car befuddling because of its age. Finally they placed the value of the BMW at two thousand dollars. We handed over a check for $186.00 and left.

Coming soon: April in Evanvsville.




Lobby of the Evansville Marriott. Photo courtesy of Brian Miller

An honest self-analysis of motive and response. The mother wren (as in the blogs above and below), with a cat in the immediate neighborhood, demonstrated not so much instinctual protective response.

Also, super still life of the artfully bland -- the Miller eye is apparently genetically shared.

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Posted by Michael at July 11, 2003 11:04 PM