Moving across state lines sucks. Plain and simple.

Since this blog started as a means to chronicle my post-graduate move to Chicago, as well as the trials and tribulations I face in the Big Kid World, I might as well talk a little bit about what I've learned moving from state-to-state.

First, moving to Kentucky in August has been the gift that keeps on giving -- or rather, I'm the gift that keeps on giving to the city of Covington in the form of parking tickets and license fees. You're welcome, Covington.

Let me preface this story with this: my busy season at work lasts from about mid-July through October. During that time, I was in my office between 6 and 7 a.m. every day, and often didn't leave until 6 or 7 in the evening, only to go home and edit or check client websites. This was also the time I chose to move from Ohio to Kentucky. Finally, this story chronicles only my issues with the states of Ohio and Kentucky, as well as my bank, making the move impossible -- I won't even go into the issues with being double charged for insurance when the company I have auto and renters through didn't cancel my Ohio policy when I started my Kentucky one. Ok, here we go.

When I moved to Ohio, switching my license plate and title from Michigan was a nightmare. My mom is on my car title (thanks for the better interest rate, Mom!), which threw a wrench in a smooth transitional process. Well, that and apparently transferring titles in or out of Ohio is insanely complicated, even with only one title-holder. The process requires power of attorney forms, applications, fees and lots of paperwork, but nowhere is there a comprehensive list of all these things. Calling also isn't helpful, because no matter who you talk to at any Ohio Bureau of Motor Vehicles branch, they won't know of all the forms either. Basically, visits to the office to went like this:

Lindsay: Hi, I'm here to get a copy of my Ohio title so I can transfer my plates to Kentucky. My mom is also on the title, and I have this notarized Power of Attorney form from her. I also have my proof of insurance, birth certificate and driver's license.
Lady at the Counter: Do you have a copy of your mom's social security card (or form 9874B, or application C731928383, or whatever obscure piece of paper they also wanted signed)?
Lindsay: No, I wasn't told I need that.
Lady at the Counter: Oh, that's too bad. Yeah, I can't help you without it.

This went on for weeks -- well, when I was able to get away from my office to spend a few hours at the BMV, that is. You may ask: Lindsay, why didn't you just renew your Ohio plate and call it a day? Great question. I couldn't because responsible Big Kid Lindsay transferred her car and renter's insurance to Kentucky immediately after moving. Without proof of Ohio insurance, Ohio won't renew  your plates. So...

In a fit of rage during one of these visits, I asked what it would take to just get my mother off the title of my car, because even a low interest rate wasn't worth the stress and time spent jumping through these hoops. The BMV lady told me matter-of-factly: "If you were to refinance your car, the bank will remove your mother's name and it will cut down on a lot of paperwork."

So, off to the bank I went. I confirmed with the bank manager, the same bank I originally financed my car through, that I could refinance and they would do all the title transfers for me. Within a couple days, I had my new loan and it felt like a million pounds had been lifted off my shoulders. I would finally have Kentucky license plates, and I would stop getting parking tickets for my expired Ohio one. This was in November, the day I left to visit my friend Allie in California; three and a half months after I moved to Kentucky.

When I got back from California, I still hadn't received my new title or license plates in the mail, so I called the bank to follow up. I was told it could take up to two weeks to receive everything, so not to worry. Another week went by, and still nothing. So I called back and left a message for the branch manager who I'd worked with for my loan. When I didn't hear back, I called again. And again. Finally, he returned my call to tell me that he'd made a mistake, and the bank actually couldn't do inter-state transfers, so I would have to go back to the state of Ohio to get my title and then transfer it to Kentucky myself. You know, the process I had started almost four months earlier.

At about this time, I got pulled over for my expired plates. To be honest, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner. I'd already been given four parking tickets (at $50 a pop) for parking on the street with an expired plate. I explained the whole situation to the officer, who nodded his head knowingly and said, "I just moved here from Ohio, too. Switching my license plate was the worst experience -- and I'm the only one on my title! In all, I spent about 15 hours at the BMV trying to get all the stuff I needed." Since we were buddies in our mutual hatred for the Ohio BMV, he gave me a "fix-it ticket" and said as long as I showed up to court in five weeks with proof that my plates were updated, I wouldn't have to pay a fine. He also suggested that in the meantime, I get a temporary plate from the state of Kentucky. So, that's what I did.

A few days later, I flew to Michigan for the holidays. With my temporary plate taped in my back window, I wasn't worried about being ticketed while I was gone. I spent a good part of my trip on the phone with the bank trying to resolve getting my mom off the title, because in a strange twist, even refinancing wasn't enough to get her off it. I still don't understand why. Anyway, after many phone calls with me, the bank and my mom on the line, we had finally reached a solution. I was to drive to the bank when I got back to Kentucky, pick up a whole packet of paperwork, and take it with me to the BMV -- that would solve my problems and Kentucky plates would be mine.

Well, that is unless your car is towed while you're out of town because the plates are expired.

No, I'm not kidding. My car, with the temporary plates taped up in the window, was towed on December 29. I returned on January 2.

After a thousand angry phone calls, I finally figured out where my car was. I was told I could pick it up at 8:30 the next morning at the far edge of Covington (about five miles from my apartment near downtown Covington). So, the next day, my roommate took me down to the lot and dropped me off on her way to work. When the lot opened, I was ready to get my car and get going -- but it's not that simple in the city of Covington. Oh no. My exchange with the impound lady went something like this:

Lindsay: I'm here to pick up my white Pontiac Vibe.
Impound Lady: Oh, I spoke to you yesterday! What a cute car! I just need your payment receipt.
Lindsay: I haven't paid you yet.
Impound Lady: You don't pay to get your car here, you pay it at the Finance Office in the city building downtown.
Lindsay: What? You didn't tell me that yesterday. You told me to come here and pick up my car at 8:30.
Impound Lady: Oh...well, you have to go downtown to pay it. I can't accept payment here.
Lindsay: How am I going to get downtown? You have my car and my roommate dropped me off and left because I'M SUPPOSED TO DRIVE OUT OF HERE WITH MY CAR.
Impound Lady: Well, maybe an officer can pick you up and take you. But it'll be about 45 minutes until one gets here.

This went on for a while. Finally, she agreed to call the Finance Office, and they agreed to take my debit card number over the phone. $183 later, I drove away in my car -- temporary license in the back window right where I had left it.

I spent that afternoon getting the paperwork at the bank then at the Ohio and Kentucky BMVs. By 4:55 that day, I had my new Kentucky license plate.

Ah, relief :)

But that's not the end of the story, of course. This is me we're talking about, which means the saga continues.

Last week, I got an envelope in the mail that says: DELINQUENT VIOLATION NOTICE for a parking ticket I received at 8 a.m. the day my car was towed. Another $50 for the expired plate -- even though, if I may remind you, I had a temporary plate on my car. Now, when I picked up my car, there was no ticket on it, and when I paid for the towing, I'd assumed I was paying for everything associated with the towing. I mean, that makes sense, right?

Well, after a call to the city of Covington, I learned that it's not that simple. Since I didn't ask to pay my parking ticket at that time, they didn't charge me for it. Well, wasn't that nice of them to consider whether or not I wanted to pay all my fees?! I said I didn't even know I'd had a parking ticket because there wasn't one on my car, and since they were charging me for everything involved with the tow, why wouldn't they charge me the parking ticket??? The woman said it's because they just don't roll all the fees into one. They just don't.

So, now I owe Covington another $50. Of course, I could have contested the ticket in January, but now that it's been more than a week, I have to pay it. If I don't, my car will get towed -- again.

Through this experience, I've learned a couple things. First, I can never move out of the state of Kentucky. Never. Ever. Never ever. Next, I will never have a car loan with any one else ever again. Finally, I will always take two vacation days after moving to a new state (if I ever get the gumption to move again), in order to make sure all these details are taken care of. The depth of red tape that each state has is absolutely nuts -- I mean, the hubris of state government is insane -- it should never be this complicated to move to a new state within the same country. But that's another rant for another time.

There you have it, friends. That's the story. If you have the balls to move after reading that -- let me know. I have a really long list of forms you might need that I can share.