Drive Faster

I finally went in and got my Idaho driver's license and plates today. Here in Idaho you have to take a written test, 40 stimulating questions, even if you've been driving in another state for five hundred years. I sat between a wailing baby and an exuberant Russian woman who prayed before each question. There's a flat screen monitor, touch activated, and you select your answer after careful reflection. 7 wrong and you fail and have to go back to Minnesota. I got four wrong, so I passed. They take your picture and print your new license right there. It looks sort of fake, no magnetic strip or anything. Outside the DMV doors there's a food stand selling grilled hamburgers, brats, and hot dogs. I learned that the previous vendor died right there in his vending vehicle, and one of the DMV ladies found him keeled over, half a brat hanging out of his mouth like a cigar. He was a portly fellow.

So here's to you, former portly outdoor food vendor of motor vehicles and registration!

(Author's note: Boise is big on street corner food vendors, especially downtown on weekend evenings. They make life better.)