Driven to distraction

This irritating ritual provides income to the city, which issues licenses, and to businesses that conduct safety checks, but it gives the rest of us a migraine.

You take your car for inspection, knowing everything is working, but they say you need new tires and try to sell you some. You go elsewhere. They say you need new windshield wipers because yours can't be refilled, and CV boots, whatever they are, and the quote floors you. You go to a third station. They say the tint across the top of your windshield comes down a half-inch too far. So you ask for a razor blade and cut a half-inch off the strip. So is it finally over? Dream on. Because now they say you have a crack in your taillight cover. You just see a scratch, but the man says it could become a crack.

In this quest, you've driven past cars belching black smoke, or rattling apart, or without brake lights, or with the door tied on, and they have safety checks. So I ask someone how he passes, and he says his friend's girlfriend's uncle's neighbor has a connection. Groan.

Charlotte Phillips

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