Being Me...Or Not

Our cars became "Buckeyes" yesterday.

We purchased license plates for our cars. OHIO license plates. Front and back bumpers. We will now be publicly visible as visitors when we're "back home again in Indiana."

On the positive front, BMV workers in Ohio are not trained in that surly dog method of customer service popularized in Indiana BMV offices. The people here were not only accommodating and pleasant; they were helpful. They must have missed the inservice days required for Indiana BMV workers with topics like "Wiping the Smile Off a New Car Owner's Face," "Five Things You Can Do to Make a New Resident Sweat Blood" and "Welcome Schmelcome."

But, like most things post-9.11.01, getting Ohio license plates is a round robin of offices and fees. License office for vehicle inspection of VIN numbers. Clerk's office for title transfers. Back to License office for plates and registration. State police post to take driver's test for Ohio driver's license. Back to license office to actually GET driver's license.

And you have to prove everything. Being who you've been for nearly 50 years isn't enough. You have to prove it.

Turns out, I'm not me. Technically, I'm not married me, I am single me. It wasn't a total surprise. The IRS had let us know in the last year or so by rejecting filings with my married name. Now though, thanks to additional security measures post 9.11, my driver's license and the car I own solo have to be in my former, but still legal, name.

So I remain a card carrying Indiana driver. I'm going to fix my name with the Social Security office rather than affix my old name to my new life here in Ohio. The old convertible VW is ready to be tucked away for the winter so there's time to become legally me before it's plated again.

In the meantime, a friend points out that I am, for once, right in the middle of the current trend. I am an Undocumented Resident.