Taking dad to the BMV to renew his driver’s license against my better instincts:
Dad gets into the car and mentions that he smells really bad. I make a mental note to never admit I smell bad when I’m old.
Dad has GPS going on his phone at the same time that GPS is directing me from the car. I think I can tolerate this, but my patience holds out just one minute before I ask him to turn it off.
Dad wonders aloud in the quiet BMV why certain women clients are taking so long at the window. They glance in our direction.
Dad tells me, “Come up with me in case I can’t hear what the woman says!”
I’ve decided that I’ll help him as little as possible because the BMV woman needs to know how deaf he is. Can it really be safe to drive with such a hearing impairment?
She asks if he wants to be an organ donor. He and I laugh. What organs does he really have to share after his cancer surgeries and with all of his senses declining? She chuckles too when we let her in on the joke.
He gets through the vision test, and the clerk can’t get over how well his headshot in front of a white screen turned out. She would’ve fancied him even better 30 lbs heavier, before his surgeries.
I almost think she’s flirting with him.
He is the proud bearer of a license now that will last til he’s 92.
I’m alarmed at this, but evidently Ohio is full of elderly people. If the state starts disqualifying them for drop foot, walkers, deafness, and confusion, there won’t be enough drivers left to buy gas and pay gas taxes. The roads will go to shit.
At their BMV training, the managers are advising the clerks, “Just send ‘em through, send ‘em through unless they’ve run over someone in the last five years.”
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