My long, semi-interesting but not really DMV storyFollow

After years of saying "That's it, this year I'm getting a motorcycle!" I'm finally almost there. Every spring since I was in High School I'd get the fever, and every year I would end up making excuses for not doing it. Usually it would be something related to finances. This year is different.

I heard of a motorcycle safety class offered at the local community college, so after checking it out on-line and asking around, I signed up. Once one of my buddies learned of it, he signed up as well. The class consists of a 3 hour stint in the evening during the week, and a full weekend. We did the classroom part about 2 weeks ago on Thursday evening, and the full weekend was to follow. Yet when Saturday morning dawned, it was raining. Our instructor had warned us that if the parking lot was wet, we wouldn't be able to ride. We continued another 2 hours of classroom instruction, then took the written test which was cake. Since it was still raining (and it was becoming a freezing rain) our class was adjourned for the day.

Sunday dawned, and it was snowing. I received the call shortly after informing me the days class was cancelled, and to call the ABATE office to reschedule. I called Monday, got booked for the upcoming weekend, then got a call Thursday saying it had been pushed to the following weekend. Luckily, this weekend was beautiful. We were supplied with bikes and helmets, we just had to bring gloves. Two days of riding followed, and my friend and I both passed the driving test with flying colors. We received our signed card indicating we had successfully completed the course, and were instructed to hit the DMV, show said card, pay 2 bucks, and get our endorsement.

That proved to be even more difficult. Due to cuts in the budget a few years ago, Many DMVs in Colorado were phased out. I knew it would be bad, so I estimated that if I waited till the morning rush was over, but got there before 11am and the lunch rush, I might sneak in a window. I was wrong. I arrived and got my little number stub. It was 242. They were serving 188 at the time, and they had all of 5 people working the counter, 1 as a cashier and another as the picture-taker. One lady looked like she may have been around when the railroad was built, and moved like a 3 toed sloth. The second lady looked like her parents may have been closely related. The 3rd looked relatively normal, if a little peeved that she had to work with imbeciles. I knew I was not going to get through in the next hour, so I decided to head home for lunch and hopefully make it back before my number was called.

After about an hour lunch, I returned to the well-known DMV to find that they were now serving 196. I was not pleased. I couldn't hang out for a few hours, as I had to return to work. A few hours later, things slowed down enough so I could scoot out and see if I might get lucky and have my number be close. After parking in front of the celebrated DMV for a 3rd time, I went in only to find they had progressed to number 265. I had missed my chance. I returned to work and informed my boss that I would be late the following day as I was going to hit my favorite government office first thing in the AM, in hopes to beat the rush. He gave me his best wishes, and I told him I would be in by 2:30pm at the latest.

I arrived promptly at 7:30am, 30 minutes prior to the doors of the legendary doors opening for service. Eight industrious folks were lined up at the doors already, enjoying the steady drizzle of rain we were receiving. I arrived in my shambling "fUck I don't want to be here" walk. The early individuals grinning in the knowledge that they at least would make it through before me. We then proceeded to stand about uncomfortably looking around in an aimless manner that people do when gathered for a similar purpose with no desire to participate in bonding. Finally, the doors open promptly at 7:59am, and I get my allotted number to have a seat. It takes roughly 25 minutes for everyone ahead of me to get served, and ultimately my number is called. I step up to the semi-normal yet bitter looking woman behind the counter, hand her my license and card and go through the necessary steps. I pay the cashier, who looks oddly like a stripper I once knew, but she was in no shape for livening up the place. I stride over to get my snapshot taken in all my glory, and at last receive my temporary license with my motorcycle endorsement.

Given my experiences thus far in the quest to ride a bike this summer, I hope my visit to the dealership goes more smoothly.

One of these most likely.

I whole-heartedly approve of this thread and the motorcycle which you are eyeing.

As mentioned previously.

/Mourn my old baby

The reason we parted company was sort of like this

Ive been to hell. I spell it...I spell it dmv
Anyone thats been there knows precisely what I mean
Stood there and Ive waited and choked back the urge to scream
And if I had my druthers I'd ***** a chimpanzee
call it - pointless!

I am now the proud owner of a 2007 Honda Shadow Aero. My two buddies and I walked out of there with a bike apiece. I think we made the salesman's day. Everything went well, but sadly the place didn't have much for apparel there. I'll have to find my cool motorcycle jacket and boots elseware.

As I drove home with it I could hear sighs of ecstasy from the lips of the nubile young women I passed by. As well as a few "Don't go near that bad man Sally!" comments from bitter, frigid middle-aged ladies.

Now here is hoping I don't get myself killed with all of these horrible drivers on the roads.

Congrats Kakar. Enjoy the power between your legs.