Iowanization: Steps 1 and 2
Last Tuesday I received an ominous warning from the California DMV: a letter of “intent to suspend” my vehicle registration.
One of the first things I did after returning to Iowa was get an entirely new car insurance policy. Trust me: you would, too, if you just left The Golden State. The six-month fee for my previous policy was due in July, so I dumped it and its sky-high California rate for one as an Iowa resident. As a result, my car insurance is now 55 percent cheaper.
However, the ol’ DMV did not receive my new policy information and their system assumes I am driving around uninsured. If I failed to show proof of insurance, the letter said, my vehicle registration would be suspended October 21 and I would not be allowed to drive my car in California. (Boo hoo hoo.)
Needless to say, it was added incentive to officially make myself an Iowan again.
Though I mailed a copy of my new insurance card to Sacramento, and changed my address on the DMV website — something I should have done a while ago — I downloaded the Iowa voter registration form, filled it out, and immediately took it to the Johnson County Auditor’s office. The clerk stamped its official receipt and I received my voter registration card yesterday.
As mentioned previously, registering to vote seems to be Step 1 in becoming an Iowan. Step 2 is apparently registering my car with the state, and I did just that on Thursday.
Though necessary, registering my car was a tough decision. I love Iowa and am proud to be back, but I did not want to give up my California title and plates (plates especially) just yet. Though my CA blandies attracted a lot of attention from the cops (I’ll get to that soon), they allowed me to stand out and pronounce to the drivers around me, “Hey! I’m a California driver. I have the ultimate driving experience. I have deft traffic skills, a sense of courtesy, and am a proponent of the zipper-effect. I’m a better and cooler driver than you.” I took pity on the naïve and inexperienced Iowa drivers around me (Iowa drivers deserve a post of their own), but with Iowa plates I would blend in and once again become one of them.
California license plates have a romantic appeal like no other vehicle tags in the world, but, frankly, I was a little eager to get new Iowa plates. Filled with a mix of enthusiasm and hesitation, I paid a visit to the Johnson County Treasurer to surrender my CA title.
Registering my car was a testament to Iowa’s small-state efficiency. Anyone who bitches about it has probably never lived elsewhere. I handed the clerk my application and title, wrote a check for the registration, and asked, “So will I receive the plates in the mail?”
“Nope,” she said. “You get them right now.”
Noticing my big smile, she joked, “Just like in California, huh?”
“Not exactly. But will the title be sent from Des Moines?”
“Nope. You get it here, right now.”
Ahhh — the joy of moving to a state with a lower population than the county you lived in. Public services actually work because they are adequately funded (?) and not overcrowded. Iowa’s slick county-by-county, over-the-counter system is becoming archaic, and will likely be replaced by the central issuance method it recently implemented for drivers’ licenses, but it works damn well as far as I can tell. (Whether its logistics are practical and orderly behind the scenes is not something I would know, but I can see how it could be problematic.) The same goes for registering to vote. I registered to vote every time I moved in Orange County (four times), but I only received registration confirmation once.
So Steps 1 and 2 of my certified Iowanization are complete. Getting my drivers’ license, which should be the third and final step, is next.
One of the first things I did after returning to Iowa was get an entirely new car insurance policy. Trust me: you would, too, if you just left The Golden State. The six-month fee for my previous policy was due in July, so I dumped it and its sky-high California rate for one as an Iowa resident. As a result, my car insurance is now 55 percent cheaper.
However, the ol’ DMV did not receive my new policy information and their system assumes I am driving around uninsured. If I failed to show proof of insurance, the letter said, my vehicle registration would be suspended October 21 and I would not be allowed to drive my car in California. (Boo hoo hoo.)
Needless to say, it was added incentive to officially make myself an Iowan again.
Though I mailed a copy of my new insurance card to Sacramento, and changed my address on the DMV website — something I should have done a while ago — I downloaded the Iowa voter registration form, filled it out, and immediately took it to the Johnson County Auditor’s office. The clerk stamped its official receipt and I received my voter registration card yesterday.
As mentioned previously, registering to vote seems to be Step 1 in becoming an Iowan. Step 2 is apparently registering my car with the state, and I did just that on Thursday.
Though necessary, registering my car was a tough decision. I love Iowa and am proud to be back, but I did not want to give up my California title and plates (plates especially) just yet. Though my CA blandies attracted a lot of attention from the cops (I’ll get to that soon), they allowed me to stand out and pronounce to the drivers around me, “Hey! I’m a California driver. I have the ultimate driving experience. I have deft traffic skills, a sense of courtesy, and am a proponent of the zipper-effect. I’m a better and cooler driver than you.” I took pity on the naïve and inexperienced Iowa drivers around me (Iowa drivers deserve a post of their own), but with Iowa plates I would blend in and once again become one of them.
California license plates have a romantic appeal like no other vehicle tags in the world, but, frankly, I was a little eager to get new Iowa plates. Filled with a mix of enthusiasm and hesitation, I paid a visit to the Johnson County Treasurer to surrender my CA title.
Registering my car was a testament to Iowa’s small-state efficiency. Anyone who bitches about it has probably never lived elsewhere. I handed the clerk my application and title, wrote a check for the registration, and asked, “So will I receive the plates in the mail?”
“Nope,” she said. “You get them right now.”
Noticing my big smile, she joked, “Just like in California, huh?”
“Not exactly. But will the title be sent from Des Moines?”
“Nope. You get it here, right now.”
Ahhh — the joy of moving to a state with a lower population than the county you lived in. Public services actually work because they are adequately funded (?) and not overcrowded. Iowa’s slick county-by-county, over-the-counter system is becoming archaic, and will likely be replaced by the central issuance method it recently implemented for drivers’ licenses, but it works damn well as far as I can tell. (Whether its logistics are practical and orderly behind the scenes is not something I would know, but I can see how it could be problematic.) The same goes for registering to vote. I registered to vote every time I moved in Orange County (four times), but I only received registration confirmation once.
So Steps 1 and 2 of my certified Iowanization are complete. Getting my drivers’ license, which should be the third and final step, is next.
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