I learned it was impossible to get my scooter registered at the California Department of Motor Vehicles branch on North Amphlett Boulevard in San Mateo. However, once I went to Redwood City, it was done easily.
Gas prices are highest in the San Francisco Bay Area. The news tells me that, to ease traffic congestion and lower gas consumption, California and its DMV are trying to be more scooter-friendly. I shudder to think what the DMV considers scooter-hostile. I remain surprised at how rarely San Mateo DMV employees volunteer information, how often they make decisions based on incorrect assumptions, and the number of times I have had to tell them the laws that they are paid to know.
When you go to a doctor, you don't always know what the procedure is going to be. The doctor is there to figure out what your problem is and tell you how to fix it. When you go to the post office, they will happily tell you all the different ways to ship a package, tell you what to fill out on the form, and offer you stamps. If you need a passport, they give you an instruction sheet detailing everything you need to bring. When you go to the DMV....
The scooter has a 49.7 cc, 4 stroke engine, and the manufacturer is the Bi-Tank company in Van Nuys, California. Bi-Tank has a distributor called Viza Motors in Scottsdale, Arizona. I bought it new through the internet from a Viza salesman in Georgia. I have no problems with the scooter itself. This page is not intended to reflect badly on Bi-Tank, Viza, or Dave Bergmann, but rather on the caprices of the San Mateo DMV. Initially I was fairly ignorant of laws regarding scooters. By now I have had a fairly thorough education in both laws and bureaucrats.
Here is what's happening: [June 23] [June 24] [July 28] [July 30] [August 2] [August 5] [The nightmare is over August 6] [John Horgan writes, August 27] [DMV response, September 13]
21 May 2004
The scooter arrives at my door. The pink slip is not included in the package. Dave Bergmann explains it's sent under separate cover in case the scooter is stolen from my driveway before I get home. I charge up the battery and install it, get insurance from my State Farm agent, buy a helmet, put some gas in the thing, and start to tool around the block a few days later.
I worry about driving unregistered, but I suppress the worry -- at least I'm insured -- and wait for the pink slip. Over the next three weeks I send emails and make phone calls to Dave and Bi-Tank. Bi-Tank is unaccountably delayed in getting their pink slips, which are actually a Manufacturer's Statement of Origin (MSO), out. Finally it arrives, and I take myself to...*drumroll*...the DMV.
23 June 2004
While waiting for my wait-number to be called, I write down what is true and correct on the "Application for Title or Registration": I received the scooter on May 21st and started operating it on May 27th. The DMV asks me why I took so long to register it. I tell them I was waiting for the MSO to arrive, and show them the postmark on Bi-Tank's envelope. They levy fines based on the time discrepancy between May 27th and June 23rd. They tell me these fines would have been avoided had I not waited for the MSO to arrive. Apparently starting the registration process immediately was all the key.
Naturally, I'm annoyed. My time is worth around $50-60 per hour. It was more efficient to have the paperwork in hand, rather than taking an extra trip to the DMV just to fill out a form when I know I can't finish the process. They fined me $40. Estimating this initial journey would have taken about 50 minutes (12 minutes round trip, 30 minute wait, 8 minutes to start the app and pay), I conclude it was almost worth it.
They ask me for a verification. "What's a verification?"
"Take your vehicle to the driveway where it says 'Verifications.' Someone will come out and help you."
This is my first hint that the devil of bureaucracy hovers three feet before me.
I move the scooter and sit on the curb. Apparently this is where they start road tests also. I smoke a cigarette and watch young and old nervous drivers as they turn their blinkers on and off and, with a surprisingly consistent hesitation, honk their horns. They wouldn't hesitate if someone was in their way. Presently someone with a clipboard approaches. She explains nothing but, after examining my application and MSO, says she wants me to show her the VIN number, the federal ID, and the engine number on the scooter itself. I remember those locations were described in the owner's manual, which I had left on my coffee table. She leaves to give me time find them, and comes back later. I confess I only know where the VIN plate is, and show it to her. "This is the federal ID number," she says.
"It's the VIN number. It says 'VIN' right there next to it."
"Okay, that's the VIN number. I need the federal ID number."
A brief, confused flurry ensued during which she changed her mind several times as to whether it was a VIN or a federal ID. "And an engine number. It also needs an EPA stamp. I need those, too."
During our discussion another verifier comes out. He seems nicer, but cannot help me any more. She tells me I need to find out these things and come back. Thankfully, I do not need to take another wait-number.
I go home, re-read the book and learn there are only a VIN and an engine number. I call up Bi-Tank and they tell me that the federal ID is the same thing as the VIN. They tell me I don't need an EPA stamp because the scooter is less than 50 ccs.
Armed with this knowledge I return after lunch, and wait at the curb. It takes longer for someone to appear, and it's the same woman as before. I point out to her the engine number and tell her what Bi-Tank told me. She seems satisfied until we get back to the VIN. "It's supposed to be stamped in two places."
What?
"Usually on the frame somewhere."
I go home and give it up for the day.
Another phone call to Bi-Tank. They tell me that the VIN is stamped on the frame directly underneath the plate. The plate is riveted on, but they assure me the second stamp is there. Bi-Tank faxes me a letter certifying "under penalty of perjury under the laws of the state of California" that there are two VIN numbers, and gives their locations.
24 June 2004
I take myself back to the 'verification' curb. Same woman, and my heart sinks. I was really hoping for the guy, who had actually got down on the curb to help me find the engine number. I tell her about the VIN on the frame underneath the VIN plate. I show her the fax, but she gives it no more than a cursory glance. "Well, how am I supposed to verify that?" she asks disgustedly. She is going to send me to the Highway Patrol office to get my verification. For the moment I need to wait in line in order to get the verification form to give to the CHP. Which is a single sheet form that evidently needs to be closely guarded. They don't put these a bin for anyone to just pick up and take home.
I go back into the office and stand in the get-a-number line. I had noticed a CHP car in the lot earlier, and now see its owner talking with some of the staff. I project psychic waves with all my strength: "Don't leave." When there are still two people ahead of me, the CHP officer leaves. I get my wait number and wait. When I'm called, a kindly Samoan issues me an operating permit, a big pink square with the number 7 for July. I didn't even know I needed an operating permit, so I guess there was a purpose for standing in line after all. She tells me since I don't have a window to tape it to, I can just keep it in the vehicle.
I go outside wondering when this will all be over. I look at the afternoon haze, stunned and numbed. And to my shocked delight, the CHP cruiser is still here, and the officer is sitting inside! I tell him my need, and ask if I can go there right now (it's 4 pm). He says, "I'll save you a trip. You want to talk to Officer Dan Clapp. He's the only one who does verifications, and you have to make an appointment." Officer Justin Schroeder, part-time angel from heaven, gives me his card with the CHP number on it. "Call him, he'll get you all set up."
(Postscript: it dawned on me later just how lucky I'd been that he was there, because the DMV didn't tell me this, much less give me the CHP phone number. I could easily have taken an 80-minute round trip just to find out I needed to make an appointment.)
28 July 2004
This is the earliest date that I could get an appointment. It's also the longest trip I've taken on the scooter, about 40 minutes to go 15 miles, even taking the roads with few lights. The drive goes smoothly except for a woman who passes me on the right, then drives more slowly than I'd been. Officer Clapp is friendly in a brisk way, and nods sympathetically as I vent my annoyance (mildly; I don't want to alienate him.) I tell him about the DMV people not knowing that I didn't need an EPA stamp, and the differences between the DMV and CHP websites, and he smiles. "What's really scary is that we're both run by the same agency," he says. He finishes me in twenty minutes, and tells me to be careful out there.
30 July 2004
I made an appointment with the DMV this time, for 9:20. I feel happy and confident that I will get my plates today. They issue me a wait number with an "A" instead of a "G". This means it only takes 15 minutes to get called instead of 35.
A small unsmiling woman, Shibana Buksh, examines my papers and Officer Clapp's verification. "It needs to be EPA labeled," she tells me in a heavily-accented voice only a little louder than a murmur. "I can't register this vehicle."
The Fist of Death curls. I look at the verification form, and indeed under "Emission label indicates" Clapp marked "None." This is correct, because there is no emissions label. There is also a tick-box for "Engine displacement less than 50 ccs," but this is unmarked, correctly so, for the same reason.
In a stunned voice I say, "You can't register it. Are you going to give me a refund?"
"Yes, we'll issue a refund."
After mentally staggering over the tremendous waste of time, and wondering if I should just ditch this process, take the refund and drive the scooter unregistered, I decide I refuse to give up. They are wrong, I am right. Why I am choosing to give money annually to this agency who can't find their own toes with a hammer, I don't know, but I want to register this damn vehicle. (Sheesh, they've even got me calling it a vehicle, not a scooter.)
Also, I have finally wised up as to how to deal with the DMV. I ask her to explain exactly why she cannot register it. "You have to buy vehicles from California." Somehow, the way she says it makes it sound like California is a dealership. "You have a polluting vehicle. It doesn't comply with EPA."
I doubt it pollutes more than a Hummer, or even a Honda. "It's under 50 ccs. Under 50 ccs is not regulated by the EPA."
(Postscript: This persistent, blind refusal to register -- in practical terms, that's what it amounted to -- may have been caused by the MSO, which named the distributor in Arizona rather than the manufacturer in CA. However, it would still not require an EPA label in any case.)
In desperation, I want to call Officer Clapp so he can tell them what the law is. I ask Shibana for a phone book. She tells me only the managers have them, and she can't take it from the manager. She points out the public phones in the back of the room. From where I'm standing, I can see there are no phone books there. I tell Shibana, she stands up and sees I'm really not lying to her. Shibana wavers, sits down, gets up, and finally vaguely asks for a phone book.
I don't see what the response is, because by sheer lucky chance, my husband calls to see how it's going. He knew I left the house feeling good this morning. I ask him to find Officer Schroeder's card, and he gives me the number. I call it. Bummer. Voicemail.
Shibana looks on the DMV website and cannot come up with anything that will tell her the EPA doesn't require a label on a 49 cc scooter. Of course, she's looking at the DMV website, which is not known for giving clear information to anyone possessing more than two dendrites. To her this decisively means she really can't register this scooter.
"Well, what am I supposed to do, sell it?" I tell her that I had been assured by all parties that the scooter was legal for California. The manufacturer is in California, for heaven's sake.
Finally she yields and talks with her supervisor, Mary Ann Yunsan, and tells me Mary Ann will talk to me in a little bit. Foolishly assuming the supervisor will come soon, I remain standing there. She tells me to take a seat. I put myself in a spot where both Shibana and Mary Ann can see me. I watch them. Fortunately, the supervisor is on the phone and not doing her nails.
A half-hour later Shibana the clerk sees my nasty glare and goes to Mary Ann the supervisor, returns with her, and they wave me up.
Mary Ann tells me it's a 49-state vehicle, bought out of state, has less than 7500 miles, so it cannot be registered. She implies it may not meet DOT standards. (It does.) I ask her, "Tell me what 49-state means."
She shows me a pamphlet that talks about vehicles manufactured for sale in all states but California. I give it back to her: "This doesn't apply. It's manufactured for California. The manufacturer is in California," I say for about the tenth time. I raise Bi-Tank on the cellphone and sketch out my problem. Kudos to Jim for being fast on the uptake. He tells me the scooter is manufactured for all states. It doesn't need an EPA label because it's under 50 ccs. It does meet all DOT standards. I'm passing this back and forth between Mary Ann and Jim, and I try to give the phone to her to cut out the middleman. She won't talk to him. Jim tells me that I'm probably better off going to another DMV where they actually know something.
The upshot, finally, is that they want to send my papers to Sacramento to get it approved. I will be phoned when a decision is made. They refuse to believe me when I'm telling them their own rules.
In the afternoon, I call up both the EPA's California branch and the DMV headquarters in Sacramento. The EPA confirms vehicles under 50 ccs aren't regulated even in California, though this will change in 2006. The Sacto DMV tells me that the San Mateo office should have all this information and there was no reason the scooter should not be registered.
2 August 2004
Officer Clapp returns my phone call but I'm away from my phone, so he leaves a message. I'm only waiting right now, so I do not begin phone tag.
5 August 2004
I get a phone call from Shibana Buksh this morning. I have some trouble understanding her and it seems somewhat unclear exactly what she wants, but it sounds like...an EPA stamp. She gives me a phone number to call if I have questions: (800) 242 4450. It sounds familiar, and I think it must be DMV Sacramento.
It's the California EPA. They tell me (again) I do not need an EPA stamp on my scooter.
Thank god for Caller ID. If you try looking up the DMV in the phone book, all they have is an 800 number and, as far as I can tell, it's very difficult to reach an individual branch. I call back Shibana (650 342 6514) and tell her what the EPA said.
She puts Mary Ann on the phone, who tells me she wants a statement from the manufacturer that includes the VIN number and the fact that it's under 50 ccs, because Office Clapp hadn't checked the "under 50 ccs" box.
"This information is already on the MSO," I tell her, several times in several different ways.
She says they need something separate on file. Oddly, she also asks me if that's okay. Mistake! I tell her I think this is all very silly. (Being a smartass, I am learning, is also a mistake.) But I will do my best.
I leave a message for Officer Clapp. Maybe he can straighten it out by going up there and checking the box.
Mary Ann calls back (650 342 3729). Apparently it does not pay to be more intelligent than the DMV (which means everyone's in trouble.) This time she wants a label on the scooter, not a paper. And now she says it is not the EPA that requires this, but the DMV. "If for some reason you lose the plate, or the VIN number is destroyed, there is no way to tell that that scooter is less than 50 ccs."
The VIN, if I haven't mentioned before, is in a spot facing my shins when I'm driving the scooter. If the VIN gets destroyed, that probably means the scooter is toast, and probably me too. Furthermore, a label applied down on the engine somewhere stands a far greater chance of being lost or destroyed. And I would think any motorcyle mechanic would be able to ascertain the engine size. The thing is doing well if it hits 35 miles per hour going downhill with a tailwind. However, I don't tell her any of this.
Mary Ann has one more parting shot: "Oh, and the scooter will need to be re-verified after the label is applied."
6 August 2004 - The nightmare ends
Officer Clapp returns my phone call. He's surprised the San Mateo DMV is still giving me a bad time. He offers to fill out a new form if it will make them happy, but he strongly recommends I go to the Redwood City branch instead. "They all know what to do over there." He's going to be out all day today, but gives me his office hours for Monday.
I decide to take the advice and drive down to Redwood City. It's a bigger DMV and, at this hour (9:30), doesn't seem to have a lot of clerks. But soon more staff arrive and the atmosphere is brisk and relaxed. The clerk who helps me looks over my papers, taps in the computer, jokes with me about which presidents are on which bills (she says she only knows Washington because that's all she ever has), and gives me my registration card.
"Take these papers to window 2, they'll give you your plates."
At last. Elapsed time since I was called up: 5 minutes.
I don't quite believe it's really happened until the plates and stickers are put into my hand by a cheerful African American girl two minutes later.
Outside again, I'm so happy I'm waving my plates while I phone my husband. I also talk with a young man having a cigarette break while he waits for his number to be called. And I learn he's had identical difficulties with the San Mateo DMV: not telling you what you need to know and continually coming up with new demands. He started going to Redwood City instead and has never had a problem since. "I'll never go back."
At this point I'm starting to see there is something really weird, stupid and wrong with San Mateo's DMV. It isn't just one person having a bad day. It isn't just niggling over the detail of the EPA stamp. It's a consistent, imbued attitude: never volunteer information, and if you want something, keep asking for it until you get it, or they go away. I know, I know, I've been repeatedly whammed on the head by this fact, but I guess I find it hard to believe that two offices of the same institution could vary so widely. This DMV is so far gone, it makes up rules that don't exist just to stymie people! This can't be legal!
They will hopefully learn their lesson, though. I've mailed letters to Schwarzenegger, Senator Jackie Speier, and John Horgan, a columnist for the local paper. I have filled out a DMV complaint card and have sent that. If anything interesting happens, I'll post it here.
27 August 2004
I'd received a phone call from the SM Times two days earlier; my phone had been misbehaving, as it does occasionally, by sending people directly to voicemail instead of actually ringing. (If I reboot the phone regularly, that seems to help.) No message was left; the number on Caller ID seemed to be the subscriptions line. Today, John Horgan writes 5.5 column inches about my woes, a decently long blurb. Much of it is necessary backstory. At the end, he too questions why one DMV branch would cause me such trouble, while the other whizzes me right through.
13 Sept 2004
Janis Saxon, acting Deputy Director of the DMV Field Operations Division, writes. They have been requested by Gov Schwarznegger to respond. They apologize for the "less than satisfactory service." They contacted Mary Ann Yunsan. "Ms Yunsan reviewed the established procedures and will share those procedures, as well as your unfortunate experience, with the entire staff to remind them of the importance of providing accurate information, while abiding by departmental procedures and California statutes."
The letter is cc'd to the Governor's office.
Sounds like Mary Ann Yunsan has been sentenced to having to tell the staff she was an ass.
I'm pretty damn satisfied with that.
My fond thanks and appreciation to Officer Dan Clapp, the California Highway Patrol for their pro-motorist attitude, the guys at Bi-Tank for being there when I needed them, and the Redwood City DMV.
The flames are out for now in
