Good Riddance: The Case of the Mysterious Lienholder
Expired car tags, a lost title, and so. many. forms.
Happy Saturday, everyone!
We’re back for our weekly series, Good Riddance, a place to gather and let some stuff go from the week before, however big or small. I’ll kick it off, and, as always, would love to hear what you’re letting go of in the comments below.
This week I traveled back to my hometown of Los Angeles. There were many reasons for the trip, but in part, it was to handle a headache I’ve been dealing with for the last several months: an endlessly frustrating situation with my old car that was still in L.A., its lost title proving my ownership, an expired registration, and an address change (or three).
I bought the car in 2014 while shooting the sitcom Two and a Half Men. (I played Charlie Sheen’s alcoholic, foul-mouthed, long-lost daughter, Jenny.) During that time, David and I were starting to think about an eventual move to New York, and when that acting job ended and we made the permanent move east, the car stayed in L.A. at my parents’ house. It became a kind of family car used by my parents when they needed it or driven by me or David when we flew back into town for work or to visit. All was well until I realized at some point during that move years ago, I had lost the title to the car.
Bear with me here while I try to explain this madness. I can already see your eyes glazing over, blurred and bored with too many details while trying to follow the math of my mistakes. It was a domino effect of letting things lapse that led me here: The car hadn’t been driven in quite some time, so I needed to renew the registration and get new tags, but the address on file with the DMV was no longer correct, and in order to update that address, I needed the title (which I lost years ago in the move). Then there was the bizarre issue of a lienholder being listed on the registration which prevented me from requesting a replacement title without multiple additional steps. But in a terrifying M. Night Shyamalan-esque twist, the mysterious lienholder I needed to get in contact with was…Amber Tamblyn.
So, according to the expired registration, I bought the car and somehow also loaned myself the money to buy it. But to remove the lien, I would need to get a form notarized to legally verify that I, lienholder Amber Tamblyn, had fully paid off the car, satisfying the lien so that the title could be transferred to, you guessed it! AMBER TAMBLYN. Did I mention the car also needed a smog check? It also needed a smog check.
Now, you might be thinking, “Wow, that was super unclear and poorly explained.” And yes, that would be correct. I am still not exactly sure how this was resolved, but what resulted from all of this was countless phone calls and online chats with agents at the DMV, various forms that needed to be filled out, notarized and filed, a Statement of Facts explaining…so much, as well as multiple personal documents proving that I am, indeed, the chick who was once on Two and a Half Men.
Finally, after many hoops were semi-successfully jumped through, the agent at the DMV agreed that the lienholder must’ve been mistakenly added to the registration somewhere along the way, suddenly simplifying the process greatly. And just like that, I left the DMV with a receipt for the replacement title, new registration, updated addresses, and brand new tags. I swear I almost jumped up and clicked my heels together when I walked out of the office—it was actually done. Good riddance to the last few months figuring this out, with an extra special shoutout to our beloved Aly Sarafa here at the newsletter who helped me sort out so much of it.
What are you letting go of this week? Let me know in the comments!
Reminder: This Sunday, February 16th from 2pm-3pm ET is The Short and Sweet, our monthly gathering over Zoom for paid subscribers. I promised something fun and joyous for you this month, so I’m calling this TSAS: Lover’s Edition. I’ll read a few of my favorite love poems and then we’ll talk about what it is that’s been keeping us afloat these days—be it a person, an experience, a TV show, a hobby, a quick laugh shared with a stranger, or perhaps something else entirely. Let’s share the love by sharing how we love ourselves and keep ourselves going when *gestures wildly to everything everywhere* is happening. Bring something to write with, and, as always, you are welcome to have your camera and microphone on or off and participate as much or as little in the conversation or writing portion as you'd like. The Zoom link will be emailed to paid subscribers thirty minutes prior to the start of the Zoom.
That story sounded very Kafkaesque. I picture you having to bring a Two and a Half Men DVD as proof of your identity.
This week I'm saying good riddance to be taken for granted and having people blow me off. I'm a very loyal person to friends/people I admire and it's frustrating how often that is not reciprocated.
I realized this week, in a state of dear god, when will I stop being laid up in jan-feb, after doing the thing NO ONE should do...flashback the calendar to see how many weeks of those months they've lost... and found that I apparently need an exorcism. Which would be giving something up, right? A demon that has had a strangle hold on jan-feb since 2017 (yeah, we all know what that relates to, no need for me to write it out). Over the ensuing years, during those 2 months, I have had covid 2x ( the second time the last few weeks), a broken ankle, and surgery to remove ovaries that decided 63 was the age to expire. I've also had a myriad of other health and life related issues that made jan-feb a black hole of nothing. My calendar is void of work, friends, trips, or anything that shows I was actually alive in jan-feb between 2017 and now. My exorcism is the demon that we've all been living with and may it release it's tiny-handed grip on the living part of our lives. Letting go of those lost months and bring back a living January and February!