It’s Saturday, it’s muggy, and I am at a sketchy public auto auction house in an unfamiliar part of Washington D.C.
There’s a bizarre cast of characters, and (obviously) a ton of cars. An older gentleman is walking around with a cane, cursing because I couldn’t sell him my car.
What in the hell did I get myself into?
Getting rid of my car
The movers came the prior week to trek our belongings from Virginia into the District. It was a long day and we did a substantial amount of luging furniture just to expedite things.
The one thing that didn’t get moved is my car.
There is no way that we are paying $260/car to park in D.C. when are moving right next to our offices, so we decide to get rid of the cars. Michael had a newer car that he sold easily within a few weeks. Meanwhile, I was on hold.
I wanted to sell my car initially, but the car-buying company wouldn’t even schedule an appointment until I had a paper version of my vehicle title. I only had an electronic Virginia title because the DMV pitched it as a “secure and convenient” way to keep your vehicle records.
What the DMV failed to mention is that you can’t sell or donate your car without a paper title – so the electronic version is pretty useless.
I ordered a paper copy of the title weeks ago, but it never came, so I had to Uber to Virginia during my lunch break to wait around the Clarendon DMV on a Friday. The DMV workers could see in the system that I had already paid for a paper title to be mailed, so they thought it was highly suspicious that I was there requesting another one in person.
A few cheesy smiles and $30 later, and I finally leave with my title in-hand.
But it’s Friday afternoon and my lease ends Saturday, so I decide to donate my car to WAMU (the local NPR station) instead of figuring out where to park it after my Virginia apartment lease expires. I’ve had so many surprise repairs and associated Uber bills during the last few months that I am determined not to let this car suck one more penny out of me.
So that’s how I end up at the auto-auction house that Saturday.
I hand over my title to a woman who looks relieved to have a hassle-free customer. I then awkwardly screw my Virginia license plates off the car while being watched by the angry grandfatherly guy running the place. That’s when the guy with the cane approaches and makes a cash offer for my car.
I tell Mr. Cane that I already gave my title over to the auction house, so he limps over to the customer-service desk and tries to reverse the donation. Meanwhile, I walk out of the auction house with my donation gift slip, license plates, and phone – ready to take one last car-related Uber ride to the new apartment.
The paper license arrived two weeks later. 🤦
No Comments