Last Year's NY Theft Inspection Adventure (LONG!)

[bobhamlin]

(I joined KawNOW almost a year ago, right around the year's first snow. It's snowing today, and it reminded my of my first Nomad adventure)

Over several years, I've been buying salvage bikes, fixing them up, selling the previous one to make room and get money for the next project. I’d averaged one project a year--until I got the '06 Nomad with destroyed front forks, radiator and radiator fan. My primary reliance on eBay bogged me down. The Nomad became a 2-year project since it was too new for readily available used parts.

I had to take the bike back to NY state for a theft inspection before getting a clear salvage title and vehicles must be "ready for the road" before NY theft's division will inspect them. Failing a MD inspection would be trivial. I'd just have to lose another couple hours for a re-inspection. Failing the NY inspection was a MAJOR inconvenience—a day of work, lots of gas, etc. I pondered how one offers a "consideration" to just overlook a problem.

Additionally, my worst case scenario was that the inspection would take place in NY’s snow-prone months. Guess what?

If scheduling the appointment was any prelude to the inspection, I was in trouble. NY has 1 line for everyone and no holding queue. Want to know what a "busy signal" sounds like? Dial the NY DMV title information phone line.

Once I got through, I scheduled my appointment for Binghamton NY, got the day off work and looked at the weather forecast: SNOW on the return leg. I have a 4WD SUV and a utility trailer, but I've never pulled a loaded trailer through snow.

I intended to leave about 3:30am, but woke up around 2, knew I wasn't getting back to sleep, dressed and left. I drove for about an hour, then stopped to check the straps. They practically "twanged." I congratulated myself. I had each front strap hooked from the top of the engine guard, over the handlebars and down to the trailer (I didn't have the windshield on).

Right before I got back in, I just happened to notice (pure luck), that the right side strap was frayed. The bracket for the missing windshield was cutting it! I didn't have a replacement strap and, between Gettysburg and Harrisburg, had little chance of any relevant stores being open at 3am. Hoping that the uncut part of the strap was strong enough, I padded the offending bracket and drove on.

Dark, unfamiliar highway, AM radio reports of east-moving, crippling snow in Chicago and Detroit and a strap that might snap at anytime keeps one awake.

I got to the DMV address at 6:30. The gate was locked and the small sign read "Environmental Protection." (Strange!) I continued to Binghamton for breakfast. I had hoped to pass a Walmart, AutoZone, etc. to get a replacement strap, but didn't. I gassed up and returned to the alleged DMV.

A guy in a pickup truck must have seen my "lost" look. He told me I was at the right place (DMV shares a garage there), I'd have to get the bike off the trailer (I was hoping NY was different than MD), and put it "in line." He offered to help, but I declined--initially.

After I unstrapped the bike, I noticed my front tire was flat(ish). I took Les up on his offer for help, then sat in his truck to wait. Les was an excellent story-teller and regaled me with stories about the salvage aspect of the used-car business in Western NY and upper PA. He was particularly gifted with theft inspection horror stories: people going away in cuffs, confiscated "non-receipted" parts, inspections failed because of DMV clerical errors. Some people even tried to get their car inspected with only primer! By now, I was convinced that my flattish front tire was a death sentence. And, for a bike that has an original title description of "green and silver," my black and silver replacement front fender made primer paint look like a kindergarten misdemeanor.

Finally, an inspector directed 4 vehicles and my bike into the garage. I opted for driving the bike into the garage rather than walking beside it--so as reinforce the "ready for the road" aspect. Any damage I did to the tire would be well worth it IF I could get by.

An inspector asked me to describe the work I had done, leave my receipts and go upstairs to wait with the other individuals, including Les. My cohorts were all in the same business, knew each other and agreed the wait would be about 20 minutes.

Do you know how long 20 minutes can be when there's probably a NY regulation against deflated front tires on '06 Kaw Nomads? Or, you put all your receipts in one place, but you didn't actually check to make sure you had a one-to-one match for everything you replaced?

I was looking out the upstairs window, marveling that it had not started snowing yet. One of my 4 new friends--none of whom had a care in the world about what was going on downstairs--got a call from Scranton (about an hour south, along the way back). "It's snowing like hell" was the gist of the message. I was so focused on conjuring potential inspection problems that the context of “It’s snowing like hell” eluded me. It should carry more weight when uttered by someone living in snow country than if uttered by someone from occasional-snow country (like MD)—but didn’t.

After a half hour, my new friends were antsy. It normally didn't take this long. I envisioned that the inspectors were dusting my bike for prints and little red lights were blinking at Homeland Security.

Suddenly, everyone got quiet. "Here they come." Only then did I hear the footsteps climbing the stairs. I thought, "How do they give bad news?"

Well, the best looking member of the greatest theft inspection team in the world told us we could go and that our titles would come in the mail. As Les helped me put the Nomad back on trailer, it finally started to flurry. "Give it your best shot, Frosty," I thought, as non-snow country people foolishly tend to do.

I made the best configuration of tie-down straps I could—3 healthy and one compromised—jumped in and drove for about 200 yards. I stopped abruptly, got out, went back to the trailer, got my tools, put them in the SUV, jumped back in and drove.

The radio was shouting "6-12 inches!" Despite an eyewitness report about Scranton's "snowing like hell" condition, I still was Alfred E. Newman-ish--"What, me worry?" It didn't fit my preconceived conviction that the storm was a flat, north/south front moving in from the west. The northern part of the storm line was the snow part that had crippled Detroit and Chicago. The southern portion was rain. I was going to cross the freezing line somewhere north of Harrisburg. According to me, I was going to cross into rain before the snow had a chance to get bad!

Wrong. The Scranton report was right. About 30 miles north of Scranton, traffic on I-81 slowed to a crawl. The only driving lanes were the tires marks of the preceding vehicles. Snow began compacting under the wipers. Some drivers thought if 20 mph was safe, 10 mph must be twice as safe. Long up-hills proved troublesome to many cars and some 18 wheelers. I progressed south, slowly.

At one point, I broke free of traffic and felt safe at 45mph. Occasionally, to clear the ice accumulation on the wiper rubber, I'd open the window, wait until the wiper flipped where I could reach it, pick it off the window and let it slap back. Some techniques are timeless.

One time I did this and, all of a sudden, the SUV was going forward at about a 45 degree angle. I checked the mirror and the trailer was going about 45 degrees opposite. Hmm.

I was still by myself, so there was no immediate threat of/to other vehicles. I rather calmly (pat myself on the back) steered in the direction of the skid-- and went the other way, as did the trailer and bike. This time, I wondered if the trailer was going to flip and actually thought--"It's ok, I got the salvage title cleared."

I corrected again-- and went the other way, but a lot less so. Eventually, I straightened out, looked around to see if anybody noticed, sat up straighter, was a lot more attentive, and continued south.

The next time I had to clear the windshield wiper, I noticed that my foot had a tendency to wander to the brake. I must have inadvertently pressed the brake pedal--initiating my little thrill ride. I nixed that poor habit.

In Scranton, traffic came to a halt. Thinking I might have tapped enough good luck for one trip, I exited I-81, taking the opportunity to replace that defective strap. Got the strap at a Walmart, put it on, re-entered I-81 and continued south. I saw many more cars in the ditches and several 18 wheelers being helped. I broke into the rain somewhere north of Harrisburg—just as I had predicted!

But the bike is legal! I can now get it titled, painted, registered and on the road in MD.

Who needs to climb Mt. Everest? We can create our own little adventures.

[ringadingh]

That sounds like quite a process to check the title. My bike is from Alabama originally, I bought it over the internet from a used bike dealer in Regina Saskatchewan. I transferred the money to his account and he shipped the bike to Toronto. When I was ready to get the bike registered in Ontario I had it checked at a licenced garage for its safety certificate, then I took the safety slip, proof of insurance and my bill of sale to the Motor Vehicle office and they took my money and gave me an Ontario ownership and plate.

[psychocycle]

Good story Bob. Very appropriate as I have just come in for the third time shoveling snow. We have had quite the snow storm for the last couple of days and the roads are horrific. Good job on getting yourself and the bike home safely. (I do the frozen windshield wipers the same way.)

[duneseven]

GREAT STORY thats one bad day out. the bike looks great if thats it in your sig pict. no snow here yet but down to 4 degrees F next couple of days snow next week on warm up

[skeeter]

That was fun Bob! Let's do it again!