Not the DMV!

Ever since we left New Jersey, the DMV is not something I think of often. When we moved to North Carolina, we had to get our cars inspected, but that could be done at places such as Jiffy Lube or some gas stations. We only went to the DMV to take get our driver’s licenses when we moved there.

Once we moved on to other southeastern states, we learned that there were no requirements to have our cars inspected. Que sera sera was the motto of Georgia and South Carolina. So I only visited our local Motor Vehicle office to get my license when I moved to the state, to obtain a temporary handicapped sticker after my hip replacement, and to get a Real ID to so I could fly on an airplane without a passport.

So it was a strange situation which brought the DMV to the forefront of my thoughts again. Here’s what happened.

Uncle Dave mailed me some documents, and on Saturday, he called to ask if they had arrived because he got a notification that they had been delivered in the morning. I check the porch, looked in the bushes, and then went to the mailbox, but I found nothing. I called him back and got the tracking number from him, which claimed the envelope had been delivered to a P.O. Box at my local post office at 9:48 am. Well that was certainly interesting because I do not, nor have I ever, had a post office box.

Monday morning I made an inquiry at the post office where the envelope had allegedly been delivered. I waited, and waited, and then was asked if I had one of those clustered mailboxes (no), or if I ever had a P.O. Box. I was told to hold a minute, and I could hear some shuffling around while the number of my house was being discussed.

When the nice post office worker returned to the call, he informed me that the envelope had ended up at the DMV. How interesting! Apparently, this happens frequently enough that the post office routinely receives mail that has been mistakenly delivered to the Department of Motor Vehicles.

My envelope should arrive at my house on Tuesday. Let’s hope so.

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