As I mentioned in my “Noisy weekdays” article, this article is part of a larger collection of articles. Since I am currently selling the car in the story (“I am selling my car”), and this collection of articles came to my mind yesterday, I am publishing the story when the car is registered in my name in 2021.
Here it is!
I was happy. Happy because a car will soon be registered in my name, and the feeling associated with this is almost as great a joy as naming a child.
Unlike the arrival of a child and its registration, the official adventure of checking the authenticity of the car is much more predictable. We work according to a precise schedule, with set prices and set times. The master was waiting for an hour after lunch, and I had been waiting for this moment since the day before.
I was happy because the hour had come, and I could finally enter the sanctuary.
My entrance
The “entrer” – I feel – went well. There were a few people working in the workshop, and two were talking at the back wall of the workshop. I felt they were the right people to ask for directions, so I asked them where I should register for the authenticity test. I thought I detected a slightly pitying, slightly condescending politeness on the two faces when one of the craftsmen pointed over my shoulder to the approximately one-square-meter, gaudy yellow “authenticity test” sign, with letters the size of half my arm: “please come over there”!
The “entrer” – I feel – went well.
The matter is being handled, happiness is growing
So, as they say, I was right where I needed to be. Even without knowing each other, we were attuned to each other with the specialist, who would tell me for a lot of money that I didn’t have to worry about the origin of the car I knew so well. The feeling of attunement was created in me by the fact that when I showed up at one hour and one minute, the first question – accompanied by a smile – was “For an hour?”. This made me feel like I was counted on, that someone was here, because they were waiting for me!
The cloudless happiness lasted until three seconds after I entered the small booth, the request, crumpled in the form of an imperative, was heard, that “I want a registration certificate, an ID card, and a residence card!”
It’s always my fault, I know this well. At that moment, icy terror gripped my heart, because I realized that I had left my wallet, which I had prepared for the noble occasion, on the table in the office. My happiness flew away, because I could only present two of the three documents.
I apologized for my mistake and tried to save what could be saved. Of course, I wanted to save myself first, but whatever… I tried to come up with the excuse – which now seems like a gibberish – that I didn’t know that these documents (personal identification card, address card) were needed. I thought wrong, but the strict guard of the office didn’t hide it:
– Why, how do you think I’m going to identify you?
– I thought the car had to be identified…
– No! I’m going to identify you first! I’ll know everything about you, even if you’ve been convicted of a crime. You can’t hide anything from me, because everything is here in the open system.
– Then I really apologize, I’ll jump for the papers. Unless it’s not enough to show them on my phone.
– Are they photographed?
– Yes.
I was still shocked by the completely shocked tone of the question, and with it the expression on the master’s face. It’s incredible that with today’s phones you can photograph not only poppies, but also documents! Of course, I didn’t want to be sarcastic, so I was content with a simple “yes” answer. The master didn’t miss a stab in the back.
– Then what should I do with it?
– Okay, I’ll go, twenty minutes and I’ll be back here.
– Don’t go now! I’ll figure something out.
I made peace with that – although I had to smile. If he figures something out about the simple fact that I don’t have the original document, only a picture – ingeniously taken with my phone – then I’ll have to make peace with him.
He figured it out by looking at it on my phone, and that was fine.
After our relationship had become so intimate, I tried to make our time together more colorful with conversation, as is my custom. I asked him about the equipment, the intricacies of the work. Then at a certain point I felt the time had come to ask the big question.
– By the way, in whose interest is this authenticity check being carried out?
– In your interest! At least that way you’ll know that the car you’re buying isn’t assembled from three parts.
– I know the car is fine, can’t you skip this inspection?
– Of course! Then you’ll be crying into your pillow at home all night when the police take your car away in two weeks!
The example was illustrative, I understood that this examination was in my favor, so I couldn’t miss the fact that the master would tell me for a lot of money that I didn’t have to worry about the origin of the car I knew so well.
After the initial pause, having reached this point, I feel happy again. This is no small achievement, since in the four minutes that had passed since the start of our common adventure, I had gone from unhappy to happy again.
Well, of course, this didn’t last long. Four minutes… A spark flashed through my thoughts.
– There’s a problem! I definitely have to go to the office. Since I don’t have my bank card here, I won’t be able to pay you… I’m leaving!
– Don’t go!
An order is an order – I understand the beautiful word – so I stayed. I looked at the… Well, everything… I didn’t know why I stayed, because no questions were asked, no one asked me for help, I’ll tell you the truth, the dog didn’t even care about me. Nevertheless, the next ten minutes flew by quickly. Then came the following instruction:
– You can go now!
I thought I was waiting to get the car’s registration, but there was no indication that I would get it back.
– You’re not going to give me the registration?
– No!
– Well, if I’m driving without an ID or a license, at least I should have a registration, right!?
– If the policeman stops me, tell him I’m here!
There’s no appeal! I certainly won’t have to explain to the policeman at length what happened. I tried not to think about that as I kicked the horse.
Finally, I happily started the journey back to the docs. What could happen next? Everything would be fine now, I just had to get back. Of course, the peace didn’t last long.
Another spark flashed, and halfway there I realized that I had left all the car’s papers on the master’s window. There lay the purchase contract, the car’s registration, the insurance papers, in other words, all the papers that only exist in one copy, and it’s easy enough to replace them. In this way, the waters of death struck me several times before I got back. My mouth trembled a little at the thought that the documents might have already become a blur.
I actually turned around in twenty minutes. The policeman didn’t stop me – I didn’t have to tell him anything – and the documents were waiting where I had put them.
At that point, it seemed that there would be no more ups and downs in happiness. The master let me know this with a welcoming shout of “we’re done.”
– Your bill is ready too.
I reached into my wallet like a victorious general and pulled out my bank card like a sword. I didn’t have time to speak, because the simple words rushed towards me with annihilating emphasis:
– You can’t pay with a card!
I’m a little ashamed, but at this point in the story, a subpar turn of phrase left my mouth:
– No shit! Why not?
– Because we’re outside the VAT circle.
To be honest, I have no idea what this means from a payment perspective, but the answer exploded in my face with such determination that I felt there was really no room for debate here. I was obviously devastated, because I even forgot to mention that I had previously intended to leave with my card, and then the master didn’t tell me to bring cash instead of a card… Anyway…
When I say it’s a roller coaster ride of happiness, believe me, I’m not exaggerating. In an instant, I felt like I was back in the saddle. I read on the all-knowing internet that the examination fee was 18,000 forints, and at the same time I knew exactly that I had 18,230 forints in my wallet. I usually don’t have that much cash with me, but I had it right now. So, now that I’m in the saddle – I thought – I’ll quickly round off the remaining dialogue.
– It’s okay if I can’t pay with a card. I have 18,230 forints with me, so I can give you the 18,000.
– It’ll be 18,500!
I didn’t dare ask who was wrong!? The all-knowing, flawless internet can’t be wrong. The master can’t be wrong! Obviously, I’m in the thick of it again. My voice sounded a little pitiful to me too, as I whined softly:
– So that it doesn’t cost 270 forints…
– There’s a vending machine two hundred meters away – I received the lifebelt, and with it the rejection. That’s right! You have to be a beggar with dignity!
The two two hundred meter walks were good for my mood and the roller coaster. I relaxed, earned money, and the flow towards happiness pushed me back: we’re almost done. I had reason to be happy.
I paid quickly. I handed over all 18,500 forints, took the coveted papers that told me for a lot of money that I didn’t have to worry about the origin of the car I knew so well.
I left the workshop happy.
Happiness is contagious. The loyalty card is not! I assume that such a tsunami of happiness pulsed towards the loyalty card that it couldn’t stay in its skin. Or, at least if it was still in its skin, it certainly wasn’t in the document case. I was just at the workshop door when the registration card jumped out of the case with a happy leap. It rolled over an iron grate and came to rest at the bottom of the twenty-centimeter-deep rainwater drainage ditch, with a nice, even swinging left and right.
Fortunately, the staff rushed to my aid as one man: two of them lifted the grate, and I was able to take the registration card out of the dirty water. Luckily, it’s made of plastic, so – unlike me – it didn’t suffer any psychological damage.
I said goodbye to the guys with the following words:
– Let’s assume that what happened here didn’t happen!
On the last happy slope, the thought took me away, imagining that the script for the movie La chèvre (Knock on Wood) probably came about during a similar roller coaster ride…