Residual Remembrance

 

Rascal, after pawing at his reflection in that picture of Sean

"Connecticut doesn't use stickers," the girl at the DMV told me a few weeks back.

Indeed, the days of owning a car with registration and inspection stickers -- a New York standard -- were over.

I've owned cars since late 1986 and they all had them. The little Toyota Corolla that I had for, basically, a month and the Oldsmobile Omega and the Chevy Cavaliers and the Honda Accords and the Nissans.

It took me a few weeks but I finally took out a razor blade and stripped off the two stickers, each one leaving a residue behind.

With it came memories of learning to drive and the hunger to get my permit the day after my birthday, which was on Thanksgiving in 1984.

Memories of my mom allowing me to drive home from Ulster County, NY and my first time across the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge came driving back.

The stickers are now a lot easier than they used to be. They're actual stickers with a backing. You peel it, following the instructions, and you're good.

The old stickers involved warm water and soaking it just so and oh my it was awful. There were many times when I'd just put tape on it.

Or it would be crooked or, worse, upside down.

The thing is that you really only had one chance to get it right or suffer with a messy sticker for the length of registration.

Even the process of the inspection has changed. Gone are the days when you knew who to go to. Now it's all via computer. But "back in the day," you'd run over to the Mobil in Baldwin Place and they'd have you drive into a bay. 

"Left signal," they yell. "Right signal." "Turn on the lights."

Then they'd walk to the back and have you repeat it before they'd bellow one last thing.

"Hit the horn!"

If they didn't see anything too out of sorts, you soon had the inspection sticker, paid something like eight dollars, and were on your way.

Now? It involves making an appointment. Gone are also the days of it being really simple because I lived in Putnam County and we didn't worry about emissions testing.

Nope. No more.

And now those items that suck in the driver's side corner of the front windshield are gone with only a reminder of their sticky mess until I get around to cleaning it.

I'm doing a decent job of remembering to look for a blue license plate when I go to find my car as opposed to what I had. Still, it almost feels like I'm driving a rental car.

I've had many times of driving cars with plates from all across the nation. All 50 states? No, not at all, but no doubt a sizable percentage I'd guess.

Rascal and friend

Tonight, that blue license plate found its way to Dutchess Stadium, and, once in a while, I get one right.

I sensed something and told Sean before we went into our respective booths.

"There's a weird vibe in the place," I said.

Right before the game started, I mentioned the same to Fish, Feldman, and R and D, my booth mates. To be sure, I'm just "Rob" with no fancy nickname. Beyond that, there's a Vegas thing about the public address booth. What happens there, well, you know.

Still, I was right. The vibe -- the mojo -- was off. It was like there was a full moon.

We worked through it all and the Renegades rallied to tie in the ninth before winning in the tenth. Fireworks and laughs followed and a pleasant time was had by all.

The Gades showed their strength in customer service and mitigating situations. Such is life in the minors or, for that matter, any arena with large crowds (over 4,000 in this case).

I had a front-row seat for all of it. It's likely I wouldn't have known anything going on last year. But this year, I'm a more wide-open part of the scene as opposed to the almost closed-in solitude of the broadcast booth.

The guys in the booth and I all said we needed a beverage after that one. My last Iron City Beer awaited in the fridge and Rascal The Cat (as opposed to Rascal the Racoon) is at my feet as I write.

I toasted to unnamed people in untenable circumstances.

And to the fading residue of two stickers that signaled a driver from the Empire State.

More baseball tomorrow.

More driving in a car that is mine but seems strange.