Simply a license plate....

I don’t really know what the process of replacing a license plate would be in the United States—but I can assure you that the DMV in Honduras is just as frustrating and aggravating. To give you the background of this story that takes place over a month or so, we have to go back to the year before we were here. Last year, the license plate for our old, dirty Toyota pick-up was stolen and we were given a piece of paper that said we had filed a police report and thus had permission to drive with a plate. This paper was set to expire in October and this is where our story starts.

1st Trip to Tegucigalpa: On our first expedition on car business, we spent the morning taking in the beauty of the Basilica of Suyapa (the biggest in Central America) and then after a quick lunch, we headed to the DMV—well one of the offices of the DMV. First off, the DMV doesn’t have parking—isn’t that strange? I think it’s a little strange. So as Tyler sat in the illegally parked car just in case the police came and asked him to move it, the rest of us headed up to the office with Puri, our fearless leader in the license plate voyage. Well, the office is part of a long line of offices, but there is no orderly way to get into the office. Two guards stand inside the office and let a couple of people in at one time, but there is no orderly manner to get in. A huge crowd hovers outside the door and when the door opens, they just shove and push to get in. Luckily, our fearless leader, though a little short, managed to push his way to the front and proclaim that he was on business for the Cardinal. Of course, this gave him a VIP pass to the front of the line and we were awarded with an extension for our permission. Afterwards he said that he doesn’t normally lie, but if it’s for a good cause then it can’t be too bad.

2nd Trip to Tegucigalpa: After driving in and out of many different areas of Tegus, we found our way to another office—different from the first but seemingly as incompetent as the other. With Puri’s continuing leadership, we entered into an office behind what looked like a jail and went straight to one of the attendants dismissing the waiting room full of people. Puri disappeared into an office for about 10 minutes and then reemerged with the news that there were no more license plates in Honduras. Amy and I were quite befuddled by this—how can a country just stop making license plates? Well, we were told by this office which is on one side of Tegus to go to a different one—apparently the office we had visited on the first trip. So we drove to the other side of Tegus to get another extension for our permission to drive. This time Puri waited his turn as directed and eventually made his way to the front of the line.

3rd Trip to Tegucigalpa: This trip was made by Puri alone—but magically, we actually got a license plate—well actually a paper license plate. I am still not sure exactly how we are supposed to attach a paper license plate to our car so right now it is in our glove compartment. Apparently, Honduras will not be making metal license plates until January and so until then we have this paper license plate and a note giving us permission to drive without one until January. Puri gave us the permission form and told us it was worth more than dollars and lempiras and to guard it as carefully as a girlfriend or boyfriend. Well, I got the form, folded it up and put it in my back pocket. When we got home, I was opening the gate so that Matt could drive the car in and got oil in my pants. Outraged at the possibility of staining my pants, I quickly changed and took my jeans out to wash them in the yard. Later in the afternoon, we were re-telling the news from Puri and I went to look for the form in my purse and realized that it was in my wet jeans drying on the line outside! Eeeek! Thank goodness I didn’t scrub my jeans too much because we able to salvage the piece of paper and let it dry out and so far its worked just fine. I haven’t told Puri because I think he might freak.

And so this is the story of how we finally were able to have a license plate—yes it might be a paper one, but now we do have a license plate—and the DMV of a developing country is about as advanced as the DMV in GA.