When Steve's car died two years after we married, we hadn't saved up enough for his dream car but we had saved up enough for mine. So we bought a brand new white Toyota Camry SE (that's Sports Edition), V6, heated leather seats with a sun roof. Which is how his license plates ended up on my car.
Three years later, when my car finally died, we bought his brand new blue Toyota Solara convertible with heated leather seats and built in blue tooth. And on went my license plates. Since we both loved nothing more than fulfilling each others desires, we thought it terribly ironic that his plates were on my car and my plates on his.
Today, ten and a half months after Steve died, I went to DMV to remove his name from both titles. Pushing aside the emotional aspect, there were a few problems I knew would come up that kept me from doing this sooner. Such as never finding the title to the Camry. Such as being fairly certain we had never gotten around to putting my name on that title, either. Such as wanting to keep his personalized license plates as long as possible.
Now I will be the first to say I hate telling people my husband is dead. Every time I say it I can't help but tear up. I hate the awkward pause as the other person tries to figure out what to say. I really hate it if they follow it up with "how did he die" or "how long ago". So I'll take the blame for the first woman at DMV who threw the title back in my face with a "Mr. DeRose has to sign this". See, I thought she'd look at the paper underneath. You know, his death certificate. That was the first time I cried.
The second lady had no problem removing his name from the Solara's title. I had the paperwork. My name was on it. Ten dollars later and we're all wrapped up. The Camry was another story entirely. Seems the bank had never released the lien. Steve took out a five thousand dollar loan for that car simply to have a good payment history to build his credit score back up. And it worked. We paid it off in a year and his credit score looked all the better for it. Which means we paid that loan off six years ago. So... off to the bank I went.
Lien release letter in hand, I return to DMV. This time I explain right off the bat "my husband is dead and I need to have the title to the car solely in my name". I'm starting to learn there are times to lead with the bad news.
Which is when I get hit again. My name isn't on the title. Crap. Does this mean I have to go to court? Open probate? I've gotten this far without having to do it, please don't make me do it now. That's when my hands started shaking. And Virginia? I heart you. Since I'm the surviving spouse (and I swear I'm not circumventing a will), they can transfer the title to me.
Now I had just one last hurdle to jump. His personalized license plates. Steve grew up in New York City. You don't call attention to your car with personalized license plates in New York. Not if you want to keep your car. Well, not if you want to keep all the pieces of your car. In one place. On the car. Steve was enamored with all the plate reading in Virgina and decided to add his touch to the masses when he moved down here. Since Steve worked the tech field, specifically e-mail systems, he got something related to that. And, of course, I want to keep them.
And Virginia? I double heart you. Cause I got to keep his plates as well. My DMV knows how to take care of it's people. When we had the last of it sorted out and I was packing up all the paperwork to leave, I started crying again. It was a thank you cry. It was a 'dear God I got it all and I got it all done' cry. And the DMV lady? She joined right in. My DMV totally rocks.
Now I just have to build up the courage to sell the Camry. But that can wait for another day.
