May’s haul: Wyoming, Wisconsin, Delaware, and Utah.

For some reason, multiple sightings often follow hard on the first: I swear I’ve seen three different Utahs and two different Delawares.

May also brought the advance guard of cutesy-poo plates on out-of-state cars: VINYUD, MVI 66, that sort of thing. There will be more, many more, before summer’s over. I’m not counting them.

I might get myself a cutesy-poo plate if I hadn’t inherited a four-digit number plate from my mother. #6531 actually comes from the other side of the family: my mother got it when my paternal grandfather’s widow moved to New Hampshire, and now I can’t remember whether it originally belonged to paternal grandfather’s brother or paternal grandfather’s uncle. My paternal grandparents were divorced by the time paternal grandfather died, which was seven years before I was born, so my knowledge of the Sturgis side of the family is sketchy.

In Massachusetts, letting a low-number plate exit the family is sufficient grounds for feud or disinheritance, though no jury would likely buy it as a justification for bodily harm. I’m not averse to feuds and I have no rich relatives, but #6531 will stay within the family when I croak, give up driving, or move out of state, whichever comes first.

No, it’s not snowing. This is just the first photo I found of Malvina Forester’s license plate.