Dealing with DMV after accident can really wreck your month

By Emily Richmond (contact)

Tuesday, Dec. 12, 2006 | 7:11 a.m.

Jennifer, my beloved nine-year-old Volkswagen Golf, sustained fatal injuries the day it was struck by a Dodge Ram that blew through a red light.

It would be a long time before she could rest in peace and I could move on with my life.

Jennifer wasn't worth repairing, so the insurance company said it would cut me a check for about $3,000 - based on her current value, minus my $500 collision deductible - and declare her a total wreck.

But completing a vehicle's death certificate isn't easy when you're dealing with the DMV - and all the worse when you're dealing with two.

The first step was to sign the car's original title over to the insurance company. As if I could find it.

Laying my hands on a Newsweek magazine from 1996 was no problem. But my car's title? Gone. It would have helped had I transferred my car's title to Nevada when I moved here from California, but I didn't. Did you?

The DMV in California would have to come to the rescue.

(For the record, at no time during this mess did I identify myself as a reporter. I neither sought out, nor expected, preferential treatment.)

My claims adjuster tried to help, using her computer to search Jennifer's vehicle identification number, or VIN, in the California DMV's database. There was no record of her existence. I called DMV headquarters in Sacramento, and found out why.

California deletes all records for vehicles after four years of inactive registration. California had no memory of Jennifer.

The Nevada DMV said it couldn't issue me a replacement title without proof that it wasn't already titled in California. I needed a document from California verifying that my title wasn't on record; a VIN verification of my car, performed by a DMV technician; and an official copy of my vehicle's registration history, provided by the Nevada DMV. I was instructed to bring all of the forms to the DMV office and fill out a sworn statement to a supervisor explaining that Jennifer was indeed mine, may she rest in peace.

I called the California DMV help desk in Sacramento to get the bureaucratic ball rolling.

"You send us a check for $16 and ask for a copy of our title," the man said. "Then we return the check, with a letter that says we have no record of your title. Then you take that to the Nevada DMV."

And how long does that take?

"Six to eight weeks, probably," he said.

But I couldn't wait that long. I needed the settlement money to help pay for Jennifer's replacement, and the insurance company was paying for a rental car for only a month.

I reached a supervisor, who agreed it was nonsensical for me to send a check asking for something I knew the DMV no longer had. She agreed to write a quick letter and fax it to me.

With that out of the way, I moved to the next item on the checklist - a form verifying my vehicle's VIN number. Normally you can simply pull in to the DMV and an attendant leans inside for a quick peek at your car's serial number. But Jennifer was at the junk yard, and I wasn't about to have her ignominiously towed to the DMV.

The DMV's Miss Chatty (not her real name) said anyone with a law enforcement badge could visit Jennifer and fill out the VIN form.

"It could even be a park ranger," Miss Chatty explained. "The sheriff's office will do it, too. Just call them up and ask."

Don't be ridiculous, I said. They're busy fighting crime!

I called the sheriff's information line and was transferred to the substation located closest to the junk yard. An officer listened politely to my request.

And then he laughed.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said. "There's real crime going on in this town."

I reported back to Miss Chatty. "No, no!" Miss Chatty said. "You don't call them up, you have to ask the nice officer who lives down the street from your grandparents to do it."

My grandparents, I said, are buried in Sharon Memorial Park in Massachusetts.

"Well then, look for a patrol car and ask the officer to follow you to the junk yard."

Luckily, a friend knew a man with a badge who was willing to conduct the junk yard inspection. My pal went along for the ride and later told me, "I saw Jennifer in her final hours. She looked very brave."

I was making progress. Faxed letter from the California DMV? Check. VIN verification form? Check. Faxed copy of Jennifer's Nevada registration history, provided by Miss Chatty? Check!

The next morning I set my alarm for 5:45 a.m. and was third in line when the DMV's doors opened at 8 a.m.

"We don't take faxes or photocopies, only original documents," the DMV clerk told me. And have a nice day.

Two weeks later, original forms in hand, I returned to the DMV, turned in my forms and waited. And waited. And waited.

And I wondered: What happens to drivers who don't have friends who know people with badges? Or people with no insurance coverage for a rental car so they don't miss work while they wait for their settlement? Or the hapless callers who follow the instructions of the California DMV to write a check so it can be returned?

Three weeks later, my Nevada vehicle title arrived in the mail. I signed it over to the insurance company, which promised a check within a month.

By now, my insurance coverage for the rental car has run out. A kindly neighbor offered me use of her car for a few weeks.

Eight days later, I was driving my neighbor's car through the intersection of St. Rose Parkway and Eastern Avenue when a driver ran a red light.

Bam.

I hope my neighbor has a copy of her title.