I was born and raised in Pennsylvania. I began living in an RV with my family a year and a half ago, primarily throughout Texas and the Southwest. I wasn’t absolutely certain of where I was a resident, legally, but I bought a bus in Colorado three months ago and was supposed to have registered it no later than 3 days after purchase. I had roadtripped to California on my old RV’s plates. It was risky business, particularly when a particular dreadlocked girl would ride around with us. A father and son combo driving around an old VW Bus? Cops see that as respectable, cute even. Throw in a hippy and they cast an eye of suspicion your way in a moment. No one likes patchouli.
So I mustered up the gumption to just go and register the vehicle in Colorado, though I think I had wanted to ride Texas plates, it wasn’t going to happen. I had been living in the Rocky Mountain State (that’s really what it should be called, “Centennial State”, wtf?) for three months and three days, so I met residency requirements. $250 later and Tristan and I are now Coloradoans (a word that hurts my fingers just to type, so awkward and round and vowely) now, legally anyway.
Of course, we’ll always be Pennsylvanians, Tristan a true blooded Pittsburgher and myself a Nanty Glo boy, at heart. The Steeler Nation doesn’t care what your license plate says as long as your blood bleeds black and gold.
That was only partially serious…