Praise for the New York State DMV

Everybody loves to bash the Department of Motor Vehicles. I've done it more than once myself. But I have to tell you, the negative criticism really isn't deserved everywhere--probably not in most places.

Things were pretty tense at the DMV in Dallas when I lived there in 1995. It was not uncommon to spend three or more hours waiting for your number to be called in order to complete a routine transaction. Obviously, it had to be an effect of the enormous population density. But that was before the Internet appeared to save the day and carry some of the load of transactions. The Dallas offices are hopefully much better today. Anyone out there from Dallas care to comment?

One place where the DMV seems to be working very well is . . . New York! At least, here in upstate New York--you will remember that we chased that "upstate" concept around in yesterday's blog--specifically, the greater Albany area, a.k.a. the "Capital District" or the "Capital Region." Granted, I don't go to the bigger, busier offices, but I've never had to wait more than twenty minutes--and usually only five or ten minutes--on the busy days in the Clifton Park office, for example. The employees are friendly, helpful, reasonable, and efficient.

I know what you Colorado people are thinking:  "In New York?! You must be kidding." No, not kidding. And the Internet site works really well, too. It has a wealth of information. Lots of FAQs and useful links. A great search feature. It's easy to use and easy to make changes.

For instance, I moved last winter. Changed cities, changed counties. I was able to make all those changes to my car registration and driver's license online in a few minutes. No confusion.

Yesterday was election day, and a few weeks ago, the deadline to register to vote in the upcoming election really snuck up on me. In fact, I happened to hear on the TV news one morning that it was the last chance to register for eligibility to vote on November 5, 2013.

I was really busy writing that day and had no idea how I'd get to the county seat to register. I didn't really trust the post office to get my application postmarked in time. Then I read a news story from the only daily paper published in the Adirondack Park, the Adirondack Daily Enterprise, that said it was still possible to register online at that very late date. At--bet you can guess where, boys and girls--the New York DMV's website.

I didn't have much hope that the registration information would be transferred to the proper authorities in time, but I went to the DMV website, logged into my account, and in a very few minutes completed the registration. As the pioneer TV chef, Chef Tell, used to say, "Very simple. Very easy."

Lo and behold, my voter card arrived in the mail at least ten days prior to the election. When I arrived at the polling place in a small church in my new home town, my name was on the list of registered voters--and everything was completely correct! All thanks to the New York DMV. I was snoozing at the switch when it came to what I take as a very serious responsibility--registering to vote and actually voting--and the NY DMV saved my bacon.

So, anyone from out of state who may have . . . an inaccurate impression, shall we say, about the courtesy and efficiency of New York State DMV employees, all I can say is, move here, go to the DMV, use their website, and I bet you'll come away with a different idea.

Here's our not-particularly-germane Remover of Obstacles excerpt for today:

As I patiently waited, a bright green Kawasaki sportbike flashed by, weaving in and out of traffic. I decided to look on the bright side—maybe this wasn’t just a transient rider and she actually lived around here. I’d been seeking a gal pal sportbike rider for the longest time with no success.

Finally, my lane of traffic started speeding up abruptly and I almost caught up with the green bike. After two more lights, I managed to pull abreast as the two cars I was following turned off at the red light.

I knew this was a long light so I lifted my helmet visor, looked over at the Kawasaki and gave a friendly wave, eager as Odie—Garfield’s canine sidekick—to make friends. She turned her head momentarily in my direction, then swiveled it back to the road view. No wave, no customary nod. Nothing. I’d been snubbed, no doubt about it. Either she was a snob for her brand of motorcycle or she was just, well, a snob. I shook my head a little in wonder and cussed under my breath. Whatever. No new gal pals today.

When the light turned red she came close to smoking the back tire as she catapulted through the intersection. Add idiot to snob, I thought, making a normal acceleration and not feeling the need to prove anything. My Suzuki GSX-R 1000 fears very few motorcycles—and my mechanical friend seemed to snarl a challenge at the green bike—but we ignored the impulse to chase her. Riders that do stupid things like that in heavy traffic make us all look bad and are quickly removed from the gene pool, anyway. I figured a wheelie was her next trick and she didn’t disappoint, easily raising the front wheel under the considerable horsepower that her bike possessed.

Also not disappointed were the occupants of a Grand Junction police cruiser sitting by the side of the road who immediately flipped on their lights and siren to give chase. Girl on the green bike was not quite so stupid as to attempt eluding them and she promptly pulled over to the shoulder. I gave her a happy little wave as I motored by in synch with the traffic. Some other time, stunt girl, I thought darkly. So much for sisterhood. If this was the only other female sportbike rider I could find, I’d gladly stick with my male riding buddies. Besides, there was always Gina who worked at Gage’s and rode a Honda cruiser—she was a good rider who wasn’t a reckless show-off.