“Sign line six on the transfer declaration,” she said, passing a black ballpoint pen through the narrow slot at the bottom of the glass.

I signed my name in clear, careful cursive, matching the signature on my original vehicle title from seven years ago.

She fed a sheet of light blue security paper into her high-speed printer.

“This is your official California temporary registration permit,” she said, passing the blue slip across the counter.

“It gives you full legal authority to operate the vehicle under California motor vehicle law, in your name alone, until your permanent plates arrive by certified mail.”

“Thank you,” I said, folding the document once and putting it in my coat pocket.