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September 2, 2015

My Life at the Taj Majal

Now Serving 'P' Seven Hundred Sixty Five at Desk Three

I'm sitting at my second home, the Jefferson County Courthouse, affectionately reffered to as the Taj Majal. The citizens mockingly named it that when it was built at the exhorbitant cost of $100M many years ago. In the aftermath, everyone was voted out of office. The only one that managed to keep his job was the Sheriff, and you might know his name from the shootings at Columbine, which thrust him into an unwelcome spotlight.

But I digress.

I'm here because I'm trying to get a title for one of my motorcycles. Back when I used to have money, I was buying motorcycles like the world was approaching an apocalyptic end. At one time, I had 4 motorcycles, all roughly the same, in 3 different timezones.

This bike I'm trying to title is a 2006 XR650L I purchased from a man in Petaluma, California back in 2011. I drove it in San Francisco for one project, then at the end of the project, I drove it to Alaska, then back to Denver. The following year, I bought yet another bike in SF, California that broke down on the side of the Pacific Coast Highway somewhere north of San Simeon. I abandoned it there. Caught the Amtrak back into the city, flew home, and drove this 2006 XR650L back to SF.

I drove the bike in SF for another year, before finally driving it back home to Denver. All of this time, the bike was never plated, and never titled in my name.

Now, I'm trying to get the title cleared up, but it's tough because it's titled out of state in California, and I can't find the title, or bill of sale, or anything like that, of course.

So I'm sitting here at the DMV trying to come up with a plausible story for why I've owned a motorcycle for 5 years that's never been put in my name.

I've driven it from Pismo Beach, to Hyder, Alaska. Through Yosemite, Moab, Rocky Mountain National Park, Yellowstone, Craters of the Moon, Crater Lake, Vancouver, Victoria, Whistler, Seattle...and then left it to rot in the garage for the last 3 years once I bought the KTM.

Once, I was riding a wheelie in the rain through the financial district of San Francisco, and it came over backwards on me. By the grace of God, I wasn't injured. But today, it

I try to think of a story that might make sense to the little maggots at the DMV. Ugly, broken women, devoid of hope or ambition. Pinned behind the counter like butter flies in a display case. Shattered women who thought they wanted to enter the workforce, but then wished they could have stayed home to raise kids. Speaking slowing, behind taut faces, to the miscreants that wander into the DMV.

The people sitting around the lobby are liars and sinners. They conspire to dream up plausible scenarios, and then spew shameless lies to try to game the system. I try to think of what I'll say when it's my turn at the desk.

"Hey....ah....I've got a bike....I've had it for years....I've been driving it around North America for as long as I can remember, but it's never been plated or titled in my name and....ah....I don't have a bill of sale...or a title...or insurance..."

I have a feeling it's not going to go well.

Posted by Rob Kiser on September 2, 2015 at 9:34 PM


"the Jefferson County Courthouse, affectionately reffered to as the Taj Majal"

You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious.

Posted by: Ben Obi-Wan Kenobi on September 3, 2015 at 4:52 PM

"Back when I used to have money"

When you're not like working, you start to realize how money is like really, important, and stuff.

Posted by: O. Todd on September 3, 2015 at 4:59 PM

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