A month and a half ago I got cited for expired registration stickers while parked at a meter near Vanderbilt campus. This was the climax of a two-month struggle to fix a check engine light (knock sensor, which affects seven monitors, including the crucial catalyst monitor on my 1998 Subaru Forester). After doing what I knew to try to fix it in June and July (stickers expired at the end of July), I took it in to my mechanic a week before the expiration date and spent nearly $400 to have the knock sensor replaced. It takes a while, however, for the seven monitors to ready themselves through driving cycles. My mechanic assured me that if I drove up and down the interstate a few times they would be ready for my emissions testing. Well, 400+ miles and three weeks later, the final monitor — the catalyst monitor — simply would not set. My mechanic even drove my car to his home and back one evening just to put more sustained miles on it, all to no avail. Already two weeks + overdue, I decided to have my mechanic document what he had done and note the persistent problem with the catalyst monitor before I went to emissions testing to get an official “fail” and buy some time with a waiver. Armed with the documentation, I proceeded to the test center and told the tech my story. He said, yup, you won’t pass if the catalyst monitor isn’t readied, but here’s teh name and number of the State Mechanic (kind of like a State Alchemist from Full Metal Alchemist, I presume) who takes care of such situations. I asked to be tested anyway for a “fail” certificate and somehow I actually passed! So, I go online later that day to happily pay $84.95 to register online and download a temporary registration, which I duly print out and put in my car. This was on a Friday, so my new stickers aren’t mailed until Monday. On Tuesday I had to go to campus to meet a colleague. Before I leave my car I had presence of mind to display my temporary registration on the dashboard under the spot where a traffic cop would put a ticket. Guess what? within an hour and a half I got a ticket not more than 10 inches above my temporary registration. Either this cop was too much in a hurry to bother to look, or he was just an asshole. I’d like to believe the former. Of course, I’m outraged, especially when I get home to find my new stickers in the mailbox. It was a $10 fine, but do you think I was going to pay it? Hell no! I asked for a court date so that I could risk having to pay the fine plus court fees, pay for parking, and lose a couple hours of work time listening to sad sacks giving excuses to the judge before I could present my case. To make matters worse, the judge was a complete asshole — an old, white bigoted local who was ceaselessly rude and condescending in presuming we were all guilty with lame irrelevant excuses. Many did fit that category, but he did not have to go out of his way to belittle and demean through sarcasm and what I considered off-color joking asides to the clerks. Total jerk. Anyway, it’s finally my turn and he starts in on me in the same way, completely prejudging me and my case, so much so that he simply didn’t acknowledge what I was trying to get across: i.e., I had a valid temporary registration at the time of the citation so the citation should be thrown out. He didn’t get it. He kept on asking me:
“But did you have a a valid sticker on your plates?” so that he could hear me admit my own guilt, but I refused to answer how he wanted me too:
“I had this valid temporary registration in the car at the time. It says that it is supposed to be kept in the car until the new stickers arrive. The new stickers were in the mail.”
“DID you have expired stickers on your plates!?”
“The new stickers were literally in the mail on that day.”
“Do you have proof of registration now.”
I pause, thinking he wants my new registration, which is in the car and he has already chewed out several others before me for not bringing it with them. Of course, the new registration is irrelevant to the case, but this was his M.O. for essentially forgiving the crime — you admit guilt, and then will (sometimes) go easy and nullify the charge if you’ve rectified the situation. Ironically, you have to pay $2 more than the original fine to have a charge nullified. I stumble:
“I, well, it’s in my car… ”
“You know, that thing you paid so much money for, don’t you have it!?”
At this point the smart clerk whom the judge frequently had to turn to for legal details intervened on my behalf and pointed out that the paper I had in my hand (and that I had tried to give to the judge) was proof of registration. Well, DUH! That’s what I was trying to get across to the asshole judge. He then in a cranky voice demands the paper “Well, then, get it up here!” WHAT A JERK!
Still not believing I was actually right, he scrutinizes the temporary registration and tries to find faults in it. “The license of the car listed here doesn’t match what the officer wrote. how do you explain that? Oh wait a minute, yeah, it’s 110HYD…” Grumble grumble grumble….
He then grudgingly announces “Retired” meaning the citation is wiped (not simply nullified) and I win. But what a bastard that judge was. He should be retired.
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