Title and Registration

I've long since realized that I was placed on this earth for God's amusement. It's a story that happened in a Bi-Mart parking lot and has continued on since that point. Someday, I'll tell the full details of how I came to the discovery that God needed humor and that I happen to play in a big gigantic comedy for life, but not today.

Today, I will just remind you that my life is very much the stuff great, long-running sit-coms are made of, and that I will forever be grateful to Staci for putting it that way. Because, although I see the amusement, it's easier to deal with the frustration when thinking about how wonderful an episode some trials would make.

Our story begins with the purchase of the new truck. A blue, Ford F150, with a full back seat. It was the major selling point for us, since it meant that we'd all be able to go, places that require a truck, together as a family. Christmas tree shopping might be a little less comedic, but we were willing to let that slide.

It wasn't cheap, and our savings account was going to take a bit of a dip. More than we were really comfortable with, but if we were able to sell our old truck fairly quick, it would only be really bad for a few weeks. LJS had a plan that we'd drive the new truck for a month to make sure it was what we wanted and then we'd put our old truck up for sale.

In a perfect world, it would have worked that way, but this isn't a perfect world.

As it turns out, we got an offer for the truck two days later from a good friend and co-worker of LJS's. Three days later, the truck was not in our driveway when I came home from work.

"Where's the truck?" I asked, somewhat miffed that I hadn't gotten to give myself that final assurance that I'd gotten everything out of it. Miffed because I was sentimentally attached to the truck and unable to say goodbye. Crazy, I know.

"Oh, Robert came and got it."

"You found the title and stuff okay?"

"No. I just told him we'd give it to him Monday."

I hesitated. "Well, are you sure the title's in the safe? I don't remember seeing it there."

"I do. It's okay."

"All right. Well, let's make sure we pull it out tonight so that we don't forget."

I went inside and started getting dinner ready. LJS went to open the safe and retrieve the title, coming back out a few minutes later.

"Umm... it's not there."

I just looked at him. Thinking, but not really willing to say it. I didn't think we had the title. Ever since we'd brought the new truck home the few days before, I had been thinking about when we'd had it transferred, searching my internal memory database. We had paid it off at the exact same time we had moved and I never remembered receiving it in the mail. But, I didn't want to say it. Not yet.

"Okay, I'll search the financial stuff tomorrow and see if it somehow got tucked into there."

Saturday, I looked through the box of papers and found a title, but it wasn't for the truck. It was for the boat and I gave it to LJS. "This is all I was able to find. I didn't want to say this, but... I don't think we ever received the title."

"Great. Now what do we do?" He's agitated and very well should be since the DMV clock had already started ticking on their deadlines for doing things.

"Don't worry. We just have to file for a replacement title. It'll be fine."

There was a brief discussion about how long it would take to get the replacement, with me biting my tongue about making sure you have things in order BEFORE letting something drive away, and about other things that have to do with new and old trucks. Then, a few hours later, I was looking on the DMV website for the necessary forms to fill out.

Some of the parts of the form require information from the old title. A title we no longer had, so I needed to call the DMV, which put us off until Tuesday since they are closed Monday. I called, only to be told that if the title was in LJS's name, they wouldn't be able to give me any information. Since I was fairly certain this was the case, I had him call a few minutes later.

He called back. "Babe, they are saying that there is still a lien on the truck with First Interstate Bank."

"Yep. That confirms my theory that we never transferred it. I don't think we got it."

"Now what do we do though."

I sighed, but accepted the challenge. "I don't know, but I'll figure it out. I'll call you back."

To make this very long story a bit shorter, I'm going to move to the highlights of what happened after.

First Interstate Bank no longer existed. Bad.
They were bought by Wells Fargo Bank. Good, since we'd been customers for about 20 years.
They couldn't find the lien. Bad.
I found someone at WFB to work with that had a "team" of problem solvers he could work with to find it. Good.
They needed the current registration for the truck in order to look it up. Fine. I could get this, or so I thought.
I called LJS to figure out where all the stuff that had been in the truck had gone, specifically the registration. He informed me he'd thrown everything away. On Friday. LAST Friday. And it was on week later and the garbage truck had already come. BAD BAD BAD.
I searched the box of financial papers again and managed to find a copy of the registration. Good.
I took it to WFB, only to be told it could take several days to locate the lien. Bad.
A few days later, the lien release letter arrived. Good.

And then finally, a lien release letter, bill of sale, $55.00, and a replacement title form later, we were able to give all the papers to Robert.

Two and a half weeks after he'd driven it out of our driveway, and one heck of a "surprised I didn't bonk LJS over the head with the cast iron skillet after he told me he threw the registration papers way" later!