Yolanda Hayes

by Berck

Colorado doesn’t have a DMV. We have a County Clerk & Recorder with a Motor Vehicle Department (or sometimes Division) that everyone calls the DMV. The one in Woodland Park is maybe the best DMV in the country.

I’m a car guy with some income that I dispose on an ever-growing fleet of used cars, so I’m always going to the not-DMV. I don’t mind. In Teller County, there is no line; there is merely three women sitting at desks.

I’m not entirely sure what the protocol is. There are signs that tell me that I’m not to use my “cell phone”, which is presumptuous for a number of reasons, not the least of which being that there are no cell phones left in the world. But I get the meaning. Otherwise, I don’t know what the rules are.

The first time I went in, there were people at the first two desks and the young woman at the far end was free. She greeted me, and then jumped into an excited discussion of Subaru vs. Ford when she saw that I was registering Jonah’s new Focus RS. There aren’t many car girls in the world, and I certainly never expected to find one working full time at the not-DMV.

Every time I’ve been to the not-DMV since, the woman at the first desk greets me when I walk in, while Car Girl sits at the far end and does not look up. I’m guessing it’s possible that I could simply walk straight up to Car Girl, but I don’t know the protocol and it seems odd to bypass not one, but two perfectly nice and efficient women just to visit my not-DMV employee of choice. So instead, Closest Woman helps me with the exact sort of polite efficiency and lack of obtrusive questions that I desire in all transactions while I wonder about the banter with Car Girl that I’m missing out on.

Today, I headed to the not-DMV with a renewal reminder for Simon and the paperwork for my latest Audi disaster. I was delighted to discover that Closest Woman appeared to be on vacation and Middle Woman was busy with another customer. I headed over to Car Girl’s desk.

She raised an eyebrow about the dealer I’d purchased it from, “Golden Motors,” and I assured her that it was every bit as shady as she might be imagining, without going into detail about the Russian proprietor who seemed like he’d rather be doing anything other than selling cars. “Well, I hope the car is good,” she said. “Oh no, it has a blown head gasket and is in pieces in my garage.” She comisserated then pointed out that there was no need for me to register the vehicle today if I’m not driving it. “But I thought I only had 60 days to register without late fees?” “That’s true, but we automatically wave late fees on all dealer sales.” Super useful information! I went ahead and renewed Simon’s registration (one day he’ll be a full-on race car and I won’t have to bother), and asked about fleet registration. She said I could only do that with the state and that it’s a fairly involved process. She also mentioned that if I had a fleet that I should consider something called broad form insurance. I hadn’t heard of it, but told her I’d research.

I’ve often wondered why I have to insure each of my vehicles and can’t instead just insure the ones I’m actually driving at any given time. It turns out that terribly-named broad form insurance will actually let me do just that–insure drivers rather than cars. It means my cars won’t be insured if other people drive them, and it’s not legal in all states, but it is in Colorado. It would be a clear win if it were just me, but I’m married and want Jonah to be able to drive all the cars, so that means buying two broad form policies…. but it still looks like it might save me $200/year or so, and for that I thank Car Girl!

One Response to “Yolanda Hayes”

  1. A Says:

    You owe me something nice for starting you down the path to fleet registration. I’m taking full credit for the 200$/year savings.

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