dmv blues

Texas is a strange place.  And they’re right (not exactly sure who “they” are): everything is bigger here. And they pronounce things funny.

This week, Trey and I finally made it official.  After 3 months of living in San Antonio, we finally got our Texas drivers licenses. *Insert sarcastic “yay” here.*  It was the most stressful grueling process ever.  Granted, I don’t know that I’ve ever had a great experience with the DMV and related government agencies. 

Wednesday, I took my car to get inspected (yes, Texas has required annual car inspections, like South Carolina did 25 years ago).  Preston, the awesome guy at the counter at Car-X Auto Services, told me that I could go to an auto title place in town to get our cars registered instead of going downtown to the County Office and waiting in line all day.  He also printed me out a map. So Thursday morning, I took Trey’s car to get inspected and then drove across town to register both our vehicles.  Tibs and Zelenka officially became Texans Thursday evening.  The worst part?  Texas requires both front and rear license plates, meaning that my awesome pewter SC palmetto tree vanity plate needs to find a new home.  Grr. And no Mom, you can’t have it. :)

Side note:  We live in Bexar county.  And it’s not pronounced Becksar…it’s pronounced Bayer.  What?

Friday afternoon, Trey took off work a couple hours early and we went to sit in line at the DMV to officially trade in our SCDLs for TXDLs.  Everyone told us the best DMV to visit was the one in Boerne (not pronounced Burn or Born, but Bernie…weird). Now, the Boerne DMV is a tiny little office inside a strip mall with only 15 seats in the waiting area.  And by area, I mean, lining the back wall.  We brought our passports and our social security cards, our thumb prints, our old drivers licenses, our proof of insurance, our car registrations and proof of inspection, and signed our names in blood and signed over our unborn children to the State of Texas to prove that we are in fact residents of Bexar (Bayer) County and that we have permission to drive. 

Now, we just have to wait 3 to 4 weeks before they mail us our “real” licenses…in the mean time, we have an 8.5 by 11 sheet of paper that we’re not allowed to cut or tear, but we can fold, that works as our temporary license for the time being.  And the best part?  For the next 6 years, as long as I’m still a resident of the State of Texas, my photo ID looks like a mug shot:













I’d like to speak to my attorney.