At the DMV

 Last Monday, I discovered that my driver's license had expired on my birthday, roughly three weeks ago. It was not practical for me to go to the Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV) during the week, because of the press of business.The DMV offices keep barbers' days, Tuesday through Saturday, and I decided on Saturday.

On Saturday, I considered taking the bus, given my unlicensed state. But Georgetown is within fifteen minutes by car, and could take an hour and half to reach by bus on a Saturday. I drove, which was prudent. I left a book behind, which may not have been.

An hour and ten minutes elapsed between my arrival at the reception desk and my exit with a temporary license. A book might have helped to occupy me, or might have been impossible to read, given the unceasing sound track that posted one on almost anything one might need to know about the DMV.

This office is in a small shopping mall, with a restaurant or two. The woman next to me agreed that the mall should get permission for its shops to display the readout showing the state of the queues for service. I could see the numbers for a driver's license paid for by credit card creep up from C134 to C147 (my number). Had the readout been visible in the shops or restaurants, I could have browsed the displays or sipped coffee until C144 was called.

I find that for my next license, when I will be (well) over seventy, I will need to find a physician to certify that I am sound of mind and body. The DMV calls this the "mature driver" portion of the form. I hope that I reached maturity as a driver some time ago, but it has never been certified.

(During the last few years, people have started to use the term "DMV" as designating the District of Columbia, Maryland, and Virginia. After so many years of using for a Department of Motor Vehicles--not just DC's, but Maryland's, I find this disconcerting.)