I Forgot To Get My Car Inspected

For legitimate reasons, I have a bad memory. Well, I don’t know how legitimate the reasons are, but they are medication-related and there’s not a whole lot I can do about it. Part of the difficulty means time flies by and I don’t mean to put things off (this blog, for instance) but I slip up on it.

My car’s registration, for one. We get two months here in the land where bingo originated (down the block at St. Nick’s Church), HBO began (365 subscribers) and the nation’s first cable system set up shop in 1947. But that has nothing to do with why I let the car’s reg sit idle on my desk for 2.5 months.

Finally, I realized that I better get it done. All the usual excuses had long since been used up: The duck ate it, I sent it in weeks ago, I was busy playing bingo while watching HBO on the cable. It wasn’t that bad, really. Fill in the odometer reading, the insurance company’s name and number, sign it and enclose the check.

I forgot to get it inspected! Friday was a snow emergency; Saturday we still couldn’t drive until the afternoon when the place isn’t open, Sunday the garage is closed.

I decided that, since I drive almost exclusively at night, there’s little chance the cops will catch me and I can put it off until Tuesday. Which I do. In Massachusetts, on the statewide inspection days, the Registry cops practically wet their pants standing by the roadside picking off offenders. The locals here aren’t that worried.