So I'm driving to work today -- late, because I ignored the alarm, stopped for a Mega Millions ticket, stopped for a latte, and oh yes, I HATE my job -- and in my rear view mirror, I see a car bearing down on me. I indicate and move over. I'm that kind of considerate driver. As the car passes me, I note the personalized license plate.
So, this is Virginia. It is like we invented the personalized plate. Everybody has one. I'm sure I've seen statistics about Virginia having the most personalized plates of any state, but heck, you can go look it up if my word isn't good enough. So, you get used to IMSAVED and RITE ON. [Full disclosure: I had BEAUTY A on my 1966 Buick Special Convertible from 1988 to 1994. Sadly, most people did not get my subtle Canadian reference.]
But back to this morning. The car that passed me was a black Pathfinder. The plate? BLK FNDR. Not 5 minutes later, I pass a PT Cruiser. The plate? PT CRUSE.
Argh. If I can read your license plate, I can read the model of your car which is usually right next to the plate. What's the point? Don't tell me what I already know. Make me guess! Be cryptic! Or at least be deluded -- you know who you are, PRIAPUS.
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