When I was in Vegas, my daughter texted me a photo of a ticket that was left in the car we don’t drive often. It never had a front license plate and there’s no place to put it, anyhow.
I also have a car that I’m going to donate as soon as I can get someone to take the radio out of it. It’s sentimental, not that it’s a decent radio or anything.
I messaged my friend, asking where I should take the car for the license plate, and if he knew anyone who would come to remove the radio. He said he’d do both on his next day off. Perfect!
I rushed around to get a new replacement plate. I squeezed a trip to AAA into my schedule. I got there, waited in line, and explained what I needed. I was handed paperwork and told to bring in the old plates. Oh boy! Now I needed tools to get the old plate off.
I figured it out and got the plate and the paperwork to AAA after getting all the info together. I turned over the old plate and got the new ones. I installed the new rear one. My friend cancelled. Great.
I texted another friend about the radio and the license plate. He said he could help with the radio, but had no experience with license plates. No problem. I called my mechanic to ask what to do, expecting him to recommend someone. “Heavy duty double stick tape.” I can do that.
So the next thing in the agenda is to wait for the rain to stop, then take the paperwork and car to the police station to get it signed off. Hopefully that’ll be tomorrow.