New plates, still a flatlander

I am now the owner of a car, with all new tires, registered in Vermont.

My parents generously transferred the deeds to the car I drove east when I moved, which gave me a month to get it registered. The process involved a morning at the Department of Motor Vehicles and then a trip to my local mechanic for an inspection.

Duncan's is owned by a woman named Kelly, who is rugged and kind. The combination of strength and softness that I admire. She wears Carhartts has short cropped hair and calls me "Em" or "Bud," and once "my little chickadee."

I left my car with Kelly, and when I came to pick it up the next morning found out that it would not pass inspection unless I had all my tires replaced. I went with the cheaper of the two tire models that Kelly had priced, and came back the following day to pick up my car to the tune of $400 — reasonable, I think, but a good chunk of my monthly earnings.

Affixed to the front and back of my car were green Vermont plates. Kelly gave me the old, dust covered blue Iowa plates in an envelope, which I mailed to my mother.

Still, I plan to keep a piece of the flatlands from where I came — all that is humble and close to the earth.