I’ve been on the lam for a couple days now; an outlaw, with no regard for societal automotive rule or regulation. My California plates finally expired on the 1st.

I picked up my Oregon plates and registration papers up from the VW dealership this afternoon. Finally. I’ve been up here for eight months, running out my time on my California plates. I paid good money for those plates, and damned if I wasn’t gonna get my money’s worth. Once their end was in site, I started the process to transfer everything over to Oregon. And what a process it has been. Tons of paperwork and waiting in lines and this-n-that. I’ve got one more piece of the puzzle to complete: An Oregon driver’s license. I’ve been studying that little book here and there, and just have to get myself into the DMV to settle it once and for all.

I won’t miss those California plates one damn bit. I can’t even begin to tell you the assortment of looks I’ve gotten around town. Scowls, expressive fingers, frowns, rolled eyes, laughs… folks up here don’t like Cali plates. And hell, rightfully so. The act of installing my new Oregon plates had a subtle, yet distinct, ceremonial importance: They were my last concrete link to California. Outside of a renegade group of SoCal friends, of whom I hold close to my cold, barren heart, that’s it. No more California. No more.

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Man, I’ve gotta get one of these for the factory floor.