The DMV
The first leg of my journey brought me to the Department of Motor Vehicles, to update the registration, which would in turn allow me to retrieve the Spray from the impound lot. At the DMV, I explained my situation and was told I needed one thing to update my registration: a letter stating that I would be the supreme master of all vehicular matters for Climbing magazine. Saddened, I returned to the office and, after much ado, conjured just such a letter. That afternoon, I returned to the DMV, clutching my letter like a talisman. After explaining my situation to a different employee, I was told there was a second thing I needed: proof of insurance — mine was out of date. Again to the office, where I requested said proof from someone in some place called New York City. The next day, a fax arrived. On my third visit to the DMV, I obtained not the full registration I sought, but a temporary permit, which would give me just enough power to first acquire the Spray from the impound lot, and then get an emissions test, required by Boulder County. Only then could I truly register the Spray. I shuffled wearily across the street to the Boulder Police building, where the Spray had been taken. 

Der Polizei
At the desk of the police station, a pale, thin-lipped woman with black hair and humorless eyes gathered my paperwork. “That will be $25. Cash,” she said. Next to her was a laminated sign that said “Cash and Checks Only, no Credit Cards Accepted.” I said nothing, and pushed two 20s through the glass partition. “We can’t make change,” she said, directing me to a King Soopers grocery store a block away. As I made my way there, our intern, Megan, arrived with the key to the Spray, which I’d forgotten. “Where are we going?” She asked. “To the King Soopers,” I growled.

Back at the police station, exact change in hand, I signed on the dotted line. “Do you know where Marv’s is?” the cold-eyed woman asked me, Megan by my side. “What’s ‘Marv’s?’” I asked her. “It’s the lot… where they have your vehicle,” she said without merriment. Oh really? I thought to myself, loudly and repeatedly, as she showed us how to get to Marv’s on a photocopied map.