Today, I took one more step toward looking like a real, honest-to-goodness Iowan.
I swapped out my pretty Missouri license plates for Iowa ones.
Now, having been a Missourian living (and driving) in Iowa for nearly ten years, I’ve appreciated the leeway granted by native Iowans on the roads. You see, though I totally know which lanes end in my hood and where University splits and which exits to get off at for Tasty Tacos, I sometimes need to pull a quick move in my little Hyundai.
I’ve found that a little wave, a smile and dramatically mouthing “sorry” works wonders when paired with out-of-state-plates. These same maneuvers in my home state (where I legitimately have forgotten which lanes end, what Jack in the Box has a goofy drive-through and where the speed traps are) result in some less than neighborly responses from my comrades in Missouriness.
That’s not to say my homies in the Lou are ill-tempered drivers, but they see the MO plates and assume I know where the heck I’m going.
Tonight, when I officially remove my Missouri plates and replace them with ones that brand me as an Iowan – my days of freewheeling in DeMo will be over. What I’m saying is that if you see a blond gal in a silver SUV with Missouri plates tonight, look out.