A fellow paralegal I didn’t particularly like gave me a memorable piece of advice over thirty years ago. And I remember it clearly to this day.
“Never get a vanity license plate,” she said, “Because if you rob a bank or are involved in a hit-and-run accident, witnesses will remember it.”
In spite of the fact that I have never actually robbed a bank or run anybody over, I’ve followed that piece of advice. But mostly it’s because I tend to change my mind about stuff. (Like the time I decided that I really didn’t like my choice in between special ordering a new sofa and when it was delivered.) So if I get a vanity plate, I’m pretty sure I’ll have to go to the DMV weekly to change my special plate when I decide that it isn’t quite as clever as I thought at the time. [See: Stupid blog name.]
But I love vanity plates. I missed them when I was overseas. I search the road for them while commuting and on road trips. Sometimes, I laugh at the cleveness. Often I try to figure out what a message might mean. Sometimes I shake my head and try to figure out what insanity might possess someone to saddle themselves with such a stupid plate.
The one I saw tonight though, made all others pale in comparison. It reached an entirely new dimension. Beyond the earth’s stratosphere, mesosphere and thermosphere. To Infinity and Beyond. Literally.
OK, so that doesn’t seem all that ground-breaking, now does it?
The plate was on a hearse.
About this vintage.*
The hearse itself had seen better days, but it was pretty much like this picture that I found at this website, where they sell hearses, should you be at all interested in procuring one. It was not at all like the fancy schmancy hearses I see regularly leaving this appropriately named local funeral parlor:
Photo from (I kid you not) Moneyandking.com, a Northern Virginia Funeral Parlor
My hearse, I mean the one I’m talking about, had broken down in the left turn lane to get onto a major highway. I drove past as the traffic in my lane flowed by, cursing myself for having my camera/cell phone in my pocket instead of ready for this photo op. [Curses, foiled again.]
That was when I saw the pièce de résistance! The driver stood in front of the hearse (making it far more likely that HE, and not EWE would, in fact, be NEXT). He was dressed in black jeans, black shoes and a black Panama hat. Oh, and a black Blues Brother T-shirt.
I’m pretty sure it was the reincarnation of John Belushi.
Honestly, I don’t know where I’d get my entertainment from if I worked at home.