It’s Friday morning, and I’m at the Department of Motor Vehicles. Ugh.
Well, maybe not as big an ugh as one might think. I received my two-year car registration for Lightning’s Girl, and was about to put the sticker on my windshield when I noticed that …
The registration tag said that the car was registered to a Charles Miller.
Nuts.
A few years ago, I made the personal decision to remove “Charles” from my nomenclature and make “Chuck” my legal first name. As far as I was concerned, “Charles” was a name from an era of bullying and teasing and pain. “Charles” – or its shortened form, “Charlie” – was the name of bilgewater perfume and licorice candy. And even in my older years, whenever I received a phone call asking for “Charles” Miller, I inevitably knew it was either a medical professional scheduling an invasive test, or some government official wanting to discuss my banking or taxes.
That being said … after legally changing my name to Chuck Miller from Charles Miller, I then had to change everything else – driver’s license, bank accounts, insurance, all of that.
Well, apparently I forgot one teensy form.
In 2022, before I changed my name, I entered into a purchase agreement for my 2017 Chevrolet Volt Premier (“Lightning’s Girl”). Back then, I had to use my legal name, whether I wanted to or not.
And apparently I never changed that registration form. Most likely forgot all about it, or it never crossed my mind.
But I can’t have my dead name on my registration. If I got pulled over for a traffic violation, and Johnny Badge wants to make life difficult for me, he could argue that the registration is listed under someone else’s name, and that I need to come down to the station and discuss all this.
Yeah, don’t want to do that.
So on Friday, I went to the Department of Motor Vehicles in Albany. 75 minutes after entering the facility, I finally saw a DMV attendant who reprinted my registration with my correct name.
And there’s probably people out there who think, “Bro, it’s not that big a deal. Charles, Chuck, it’s close enough.”
Right. Tell any woman who transitioned from a maiden name to a married name about how “close enough” it really is. Or anyone who transitioned in other forms. We’re all in this boat together.
Besides, I want to leave Charles Miller and all his pain behind me. There’s no reason for me to have that anger and grief in my life any more. And I don’t need a reminder every time I check my car registration.
Which, as I seem to notice now, isn’t as often as necessary. 😀
Chuck The Writer 
Actually, Chuck, people changing their names to be – and forgive me the cliche – their “authentic selves” is now pretty standardized, to our cultural benefit. Thank you, M. Ali.
LikeLike
I feel ya, Chuck. My situation is nowhere near comparable to yours, really. I have gone by my middle name – Eddie, Ed, Edward – all my life; but, of course, as you mentioned medical professionals, government, credit companies, et al, insist on using my first name, John. So, yeah. Celebrate the Chuck!
LikeLike
i really get this, and i can understand your ‘dismay’ after all you went through to have that name buried and begin your new life
LikeLike