“The reason I stopped you is that I noticed your license plate is lacking a comma between the word ‘Go’ and ‘Cowboys.’ Please exit the vehicle and provide proof you are in this country legally.”
“Well, I, er, intended to insert that comma today, sir.”
The dialogue was part of my dream, or rather, obsession now that I realize what a difference a plate makes — 24 little dollars. But that license plate, an official Highlands University prestige tag, has become a preoccupation and an attention-getter.
Briefly, I argue that the purple-and-white plate I recently got ought to read, “Go (comma) Cowboys.” In the case of a noun of direct address, anything else would indicate the difference between, say, “I’m eating turkey” and “I’m eating, turkey.”
The man who designed the Highlands plate, Sean Weaver, is the director of public information at the university, and as such knows how to be punctuationally correct. “It was more a matter of design. A comma just wouldn’t have looked right,” Weaver explained.
The design-over-content matter reminds me of the old cigarette commercial which bragged, “Winston tastes good, like a cigarette should.” When language purists balked at the use of “like” instead of “as,” the company came up with a new commercial which asked, “What do you want, good grammar or good taste?”
I want good grammar. As such I’m awaiting a wind-free day to apply a bit of Liquid Paper or Wite-Out to sketch in the missing comma on my license plate.
For whatever reason, Weaver said he’d like a day’s notice before I make the addition to the purple plate, so he can photograph the event. And two helpful friends, Karyl Lyne and Linda Solyntjes, have offered to supply that white stuff.
In a recent column I asked whether the correction fluid is even being made anymore, inasmuch as computers have replaced typewriters. And I hope Karyl and Linda are aware that their supply of Wite-Out has probably dried out. I used to buy Wite-Out by the case and soon found that it dried out fast, so I needed a six-pack of thinner as well. Once I overdid it on the thinner, ending up with a strange-smelling watered-down concoction. The solution: Add more Wite-Out; oops! Too much. Now you need more thinner.
Soon I had enough gooey liquid to cover Tom Sawyer’s fence in Hannibal, Mo.
• • •
Although some people are justifiably concerned about the embarrassment driving around with a grammatically incorrect license plate, it could be that the plate fails to draw attention at all. I’d hope to figuratively run in to other proud Highlands plate bearers and honk at them, the same way drivers of a Lotus or even a PT Cruiser acknowledge one another.
We cruised all the parking lots around campus during commencement ceremonies Saturday and found not one vehicle with a Highlands plate.
Yet, other varieties abound: In addition to the standard plate, there’s the balloon fiesta version and the newest, impossible-to-read yellow-on-turquoise centennial plate. The MVD web site shows all manner of plates, from the vanity plate, which carries your personal message (as long as it’s available and as long as it’s not obscene) to the myriad veterans plates.
Some tags are for disabled veterans, some for National Guard members, and some for POWs. There are plates for owners of horseless carriages, classic cars of a certain vintage, and tags for members of the mounted patrol, amateur radio operators, retired police, purple heart recipients, organ donors and even patriots.
To obtain a Horseless Carriage plate, the owner needs to prove “the vehicle is at least 35 years old, owned as a collector’s item and used solely for exhibition and educational purposes.”
Yet, there’s no requirement for proving one’s patriotism for choosing a Patriot plate.
• • •
Someone wrote a letter to the editor of the Journal, saying the letters and figures on the new turquoise plate are barely discernible from a distance. Accordingly, my wife, Bonnie, and I set out to test the theory.
At the row of townhouses on Douglas Avenue there are three vehicles sporting those plates. I drove by several times, asking Bonnie to tell me exactly when the letters and numbers on those plates came clear. Surprisingly, even with 20-10 vision, Bonnie could make out the numbers on the turquoise plate much later than the standard red-and-yellow combination.
Try it yourself. If we’re correct about the different degrees of visual acuity, does this mean it handicaps police, for example? But it’s not only police who read plates. Someone reporting an accident, or warning about a possible DWI, needs to be able to make out the characters.
But if one of my primos is DWH, especially in Arizona, a plate that’s hard to figure out just might be an advantage. But let’s not go there now. Literally.