I want my MVC: Adventures at the Motor Vehicle Commission

My son and I did errands yesterday. We hit the bank, the locksmith, the A&P and then took the long ride to the MVC.  Most states have a Department of Motor Vehicles, we have a whole Commission!

We used to have a local Motor Vehicles Commission close by, and an inspection station.  One was right on 202  just inside Morristown and the other was on Ridgedale by Morristown lumber.  However, now we have the long drive out past the County College to look forward to, and possibly a long wait in the rain. 

That’s what my son had to look forward to yesterday, anyway.  It was raining on and off, sometimes pretty hard but the line outside the MVC office was still and hour and a half long.  Must have been the spring rush of seniors looking to get some wheels and hit the road. 

I got in right away, because unlike the bedraggled throng of license requestors I was only trying to register a boat.  My problem is that the last owner died and took the registration with him, which I can now tell you makes registration complex, very complex.

 My son took his place in line, even though the police officer in charge of “lining” warned him of the hour and a half wait.  Going inside the beautiful glass and steel structure I first went to the guardian of information.  This was a great change to the MVC process, providing someone right up front to let you know exactly what proofs you needed to have and what forms to fill in before a long wait in line.  When they made this change in the Morristown MVC, it meant that a visit to renew a license or get a duplicate registration was a matter of 30 minutes instead of the typical 2 hours.  It completely cured me of MVC horror (the completely reasonable suspicion that DMVs are the models on which Hell is based) and made working with this part of the government almost pleasant. However, that is the case no longer, as the rain-pounded license hopefuls in Randolph may report.

 For me the visit was quick, efficient, and doomed and soon as the dreaded words “See the supervisor” were used.    The pleasant but harried supervisor listened to my tale of woe patiently and then handed me a form.  “You have to give this to the “Marine Police, it’s for them to fill out, not you.”  She kindly directed me to the nearest corps of the Marine Police, in Lake Hopatcong.

 I was out of the MVC in record time, unsuccessful, but still efficiently handled.  My son gave up the rain swept line for a drier passenger seat and a weaving trip down the back roads to the north’s largest body of water.  We’d come back another day. Instead, we wove our way across 46 and up through Mine Hill and arrived at the fenced bastion of marine law enforcement.

 There were two heavy duty police vehicles in the Parking lot and 4 swift police boats waiting at the dock.   A arrow pointed us around the side of the barracks to the entrance and we were faced with a sturdy steel door with a push-button lock.   “Here we go!” I thought, Policemen have a unique and clear understanding of the intricacies of government and they can be an invaluable reference in licensing and other matters, except when they’re not around.

 The sturdy door was locked and firm knocks brought no response, the way was closed.  A few calls to several government agencies (the absolute minimum for dealing with NJ State government) and I had my answer.  Marine law enforcement would not be here today, “try again Friday.”  I hope the pirates of Lake Hopatcong haven’t caught on to this.  Oh well, maybe they take the spring off.

 It’s quite possible that the boaters of the lake all realize that they are on their own as they dare the waters.  If not, then maybe the unanswered radio calls or the up-close view of the bottom after sinking will remind them.  It’s every man for himself on the lake on this Tuesday. 

 Still, I suspect that the line outside the single MVC for the area and the unattended Police station in Lake Hopatcong are symptoms of the same “cut back” strategy.  We are mandated to deal with the government but their availability is shrinking.  How much would it cost me as a taxpayer to re-open the MVC in Morristown, or have at least one policeman in the station on the lake?  Standing in line in the rain would definitely raise my tolerance for taxes, as would my boat sinking quietly into the lake with no help around.