Yesterday was Errand Day here in Klaskyville. As I was walking back from the post office, I was held at a crosswalk, so that traffic could turn. Given the caravan of 18-wheelers completing the turn and not yielding to oncoming traffic when they had the plain green light (no, I don’t know why they were there; they had *no* markings on any of the five trucks), the wait was a bit longer than expected, which gave me a chance to study the personalized license plates of the cars to my left and on the cross-street to my right.
I mostly think that personalized plates are silly. I don’t understand paying extra for them, and most of the time they seem to reflect inside jokes that just seem a bit absurd when shared with the outside world. I’ve never owned a personalized plate (although I came close when my parents bought a silver Datsun station wagon and considered the plate “HI HO AG”.) Mark once applied for a personalized plate with the names of his two cats, but the application was rejected as “vulgar” (the plate would have read “TED YAZ”, and no, we’ve never figured out what’s vulgar about that.)
So… Yesterday’s plates. (I didn’t get pictures of either.)
The first was on a white Toyota Corolla. The driver was a crew-cut white guy, with a squint that rivaled Clint Eastwood’s best. The plate was a specialty one, yellow with black letters, the “Don’t Tread on Me” plate, and the text was “NVA TP”. For those who, like me, thought this was some sort of ad for toilet paper, the bottom half of the back window of the car was covered with helpful bumper stickers, all proclaiming Northern Virginia Tea Party. (I seriously questioned whether he could see out the window, with all the paper glued to the glass.)
The second plate was on a gold Cadillac, one of the huge ones, maybe from the 1970s? The woman driving was probably in her sixties. She had a huge dyed-black bouffant hairdo. In her bright-red talons, she held a cell phone with one hand, and a pink donut with sprinkles in the other. She looked as if she’d enjoyed many donuts in the past — about 400 pounds worth. And her license plate said “KUTYPY”.
I sort of wanted the cars to collide, just so I could see what happened when NVA TP and KUTYPY were mixed together. KUTYPY could have sat on NVA TP, winning the battle before it began.
The caravan of trailers finally passed, and I went on my way. But I’m pretty sure I won’t be buying a personalized license plate any time soon.Read More