Custom license plates provide drivers with a special chance to express their individuality. These people have the option to put personalized phrases or letter and number combinations to their license plates for an extra charge. Vanity plates provide people a chance to express themselves creatively and in a distinctive way. Vanity plate applications are sometimes denied, nevertheless, because state governments and their bureaus of motor vehicles object to controversial wording.
Wendy Auger found out lately that a term on her vanity plate—which she had proudly exhibited for fifteen years—had unexpectedly caused it to be denied. Many people smiled when she drove along the highways and back roads of her New Hampshire home because of her humorous vanity plate, which said “PB4WEGO.” Auger, a bartender from Rochester, New Hampshire’s Gonic neighborhood, was shocked to learn that the DMV found the circumstance to be disrespectful.
Auger is convinced that her fundamental right to free speech is being curtailed by the state. Furthermore, in her opinion, it is acceptable to include the term “pe* before we go” on a vanity plate. She interprets it as a common bit of wisdom that parents impart to their kids.
Auger had not bought the plate by accident. She had been looking for it for years and was excited that it was finally going to be available. She immediately decided to put “PB4WEGO” on her New Hampshire license plate, seizing the chance. The state’s decision to raise the character limit on its vanity license plates from six to seven was the driving force behind this modification.
Is Auger supposed to get a new license plate as it is fifteen years old?
My Cousin Brags about Her ‘Achievements’ Despite Owing Me $5,000 – I Thought About Taking Action, but Karma Took Care of It for Me
When my cousin crashed our rental car, leaving me with a $5,000 bill, I spent months trying to get her to pay me back. Just as I gave up, I saw her flaunting her ‘success’ on social media and discovered I wasn’t the only one she owed. Karma caught up to her, and I got a front-row seat!
It’s been a year since that disastrous West Coast holiday, and I still feel the sting of that $5,000 debt. My cousin Debra, who’s supposed to be an accountant, racked up a huge damage charge on our rental car and then had the audacity to act like it wasn’t her problem.
It was under my name, so guess who got stuck with the bill? That’s right, me. Lisa, the ever-reliable project manager from Boston. I swear, some days I think my middle name should be “Doormat.”
I remember that holiday like it was yesterday. Seven of us cousins decided to get together for some “family bonding” out on the West Coast.
Debra was there, of course, with her charismatic charm and reckless attitude. One evening, she decided it would be a fantastic idea to drive the rental car down a narrow, winding coastal road at night.
The air was crisp, the moonlight casting eerie shadows as she sped along the road, ignoring my pleas to slow down.
“Come on, Lisa, live a little!” Debra laughed, her voice filled with reckless glee.
She cranked up the music and took another swig from her bottle. I clutched the seat, my knuckles white.
“Debra, please, you’re going too fast!” I yelled, my heart pounding.
She just laughed harder, taking a sharp turn way too quickly. My heart stopped as the car skidded toward the edge, tires screeching.
I thought we were all going to die that night, but the guardrail saved us. The impact when we slammed into it was jarring, leaving us all stunned and the car a complete wreck.
The holiday mood? Completely ruined.
When the rental company slapped a $5,000 damage charge on the car, Debra just shrugged.
“We’re family,” she said with a flippant wave of her hand. “We should all pitch in.”
The other cousins mumbled vague agreements.
“Maybe we can split it evenly,” suggested Jimmy, the peacemaker of the group.
“Split it? Are you kidding? I wasn’t even in the car,” retorted Martha, crossing her arms.
“I can’t afford that right now,” mumbled Jake, avoiding eye contact.
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