Have you ever wondered if you were ever taking part in an exercise in futility?  I did today.

Today I renewed my driver’s permit.  Yes.  That’s right.  I am thirty one years old and I do not have a driver’s license.  I got my permit for the first time when I was fifteen, like a normal person.  I went through driver’s ed.  I learned how to drive (on a manual transmission no less).  I even managed to conquer parallel parking.  All when I was fifteen.  But, due to circumstances beyond my control (Mother, I’m looking right. at. you), I was never able to practice enough or take the test to get an actual license.  So my permit lapsed.  And when I went to college I went with an ID card.

I went to college right outside of San Francisco.  The public transit system was awesome.  Plus I was too busy and too poor to do anything that required a car.

After college I went to Las Vegas where, to be honest, the public transportation system kind of sucked.  But it was liveable and it got me where I needed to go without too much of a hassle (except for the middle of the summer transit workers’ strike.  That was no fun).  And, again, I was too poor to afford to do anything that required a car.  So I kept renewing my ID card.

After Vegas I moved back to Southern Oregon where the public transportation was a joke.  But it got me to work and, often, I had my Mom and then Will to drive me around when I needed it (nothing makes you feel more like an adult than calling your Mom for a ride home).  Will, however, was insistent that I learn how to drive and that he would teach me.  So I got my permit again. Will and I were not well matched as teacher and student–but I had the basics down and when Will got the (automatic) Subaru I proved that I could transport us from Roseburg to Sutherlin without killing us or anyone else. But I was not confident enough to try freeway driving or to actually go take the license exam.  And then we moved up here to Portland.

Portland’s transportation system rocks.  Seriously.  I heart it.  And at some point I have turned into a driving (and passengering) wuss.  I have not gotten behind the wheel of a car since we moved up here.  And I am kind of okay with that.  And sometimes I feel lame that I am thirty one years old and cannot drive myself around.

So today I renewed my permit again.  And I will learn to drive because I’m about to get married.  And I want to have kids.  And I want to be able to drive the kids to the doctor’s office in case there is an emergency.  And I want to  not have to live within a mile of a transit station (which is so much more expensive).  But mostly because I do not want to deal with “you’re how old?  And you don’t have your license yet? What is wrong with you?”

I have to say though, that the whole thing felt like an exercise in futility.  I went to the DMV Express in the Lloyd Center because when Will and I walked by it a few days ago it was absolutely not busy at all.  But today? At eleven AM on a Tuesday?  There was a long line.  Of course.  But I stood in the line.  And filled out the wrong form.  And learned that even at eleven in the morning after only having been open for an hour, the DMV people have no sense of humor and do not appreciate my patience or good attitude.  But the right form got filled out, a new picture got taken and my new permit should show up in the mail within a week or so.

I had to do this a month before my wedding–after which my name will be changed.  So I get to go back and do it all again.  Because? I have to have a valid ID to get a marriage license.

So, essentially, I had to renew my permit so that I could get my marriage license so that I could get my name changed so that I could go back and get another new permit. Suddenly my life is like Main Street in Pleasantville.  All roads are leading back to the DMV.