Thursday, May 3, 2018

Legit...


I took the Vespa to our nearby auto repair place to get a Texas state inspection.  On the way off our island, the bridge was out.  I rode around the line of cars to see what was coming through...


A tug pushing two barges.  They have to make a 90º turn just before our bridge.  With two 290' barges.  50' wide.  Yeah, almost the length of two football fields.  With a strong crosswind.  The tug is the Billy Burkett - I've seen this guy around here regularly... he made it look easy.  The tug was kicking one heck of a wake, though, so those engines were working hard.

I rode to the back of the traffic line (yeah, I could have cut in between cars at the front of the line, but I am a good neighbor), and there was a guy on a Harley at the back of the line.  I pulled up alongside him and said, "Hello, fellow two-wheel enthusiast!"

No, I didn't.  I said, "Nice bike."  I knew we had at least 10 minutes to kill for the tug to clear and then the bridge operator to get the bridge closed.  We visited for a bit.  He asked about the Vespa - I told him that I just brought it home yesterday; he asked, "In that wind?"

"Yep, it handled the crosswind pretty decent - as good as any heavy motorcycle I've owned."  We talked about "bikes in the past," then he pointed at mine and said, "I've never ridden one, but I hear those Vespas are pretty capable."

I said, "Vespas are to scooters as Harleys are to motorcycles - there's a mystique."  He smiled.  Really, a smile.  Not a smirk.

The bridge closed, the traffic started to move, and we roared away.  Well, he roared away... I putt-putted.  ;-)

I must be living right because the owner (and only person there) at the garage was able to get right to the inspection.  You show proof of insurance, he checks the lights, the horn, the mileage, and the VIN.  It takes longer to do the paperwork than the inspection.  While waiting for him to finish the paperwork, I saw this...


I was thinking he must like bikes.  All three scoots are on our insurance paper - he had to ask, "Is this one the Vespa?"  Ummm, yep.

Back home, Joan and I gathered the paperwork for all our vehicles and headed to Brownsville... the goal: a license plate and registration on the Vespa and an updated address on all the others.

The Tax Office in Brownsville has gone more upscale: it used to be in a moderately crappy, crowded old building, and now they are in a spacious, more modern building.  The pace seems to move about the same... I had to stand in line to get a number to get my turn at one of the 14 windows.  In this new building, they have way more seating... it kinda gave the place the feeling of a 3rd world airport.  Well, without anyone holding a chicken.  We waited for almost an hour to get our turn...


Joan handles slow-moving bureaucracy better than I do.  She did the talking.  The pace moved governmentally slow, but we get it done; the Vespa is officially in our name, with a shiny new black and white license plate.  It goes with the glossy black of my Italian "wasp" (Vespa is Italian for wasp).

Out for a late lunch, then back home.  Joan got a notice that a package had been delivered... "I'll go get it for you!"  Of course, I wanted to take the scoot, but I was also excited about the prospect of getting a key in our mailbox that will fit in a bigger box that will hold the package... and not have to go to the Post Office.

It all worked just like it is supposed to.  Two ladies saw me getting the package out of the box; one said, "Isn't this great?  We may never have to stand in line at the Post Office again!"

I knew I wasn't the only one excited about our new mailboxes, even if it does mean we have to deal with a bunch of address changes.

:-)


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