Passing the Safety and Emissions Inspection

I just got my Utah Motor Vehicle Registration Materials in the mail. I might as well have been given hell in a hand basket.

This horrendous undertaking first struck me last year. I had been going around with an out-of-state license plate on my car, so I was free from the stranglehold of the Utah vehicle-registration process. But after residing in the state for about 4 years, I decided I had better break down and get Utah plates.

I found out that in order to register, my wife and I's car would need to pass a so-called "safety and emissions test." I come from a state where safety and emissions inspections are unheard of.

If the thing moves, you can ride it down the road, whether it's an automobile, ATV, tractor, or some sort of livestock. Yes, you can ride a cow into town as long as you use the appropriate hand signals at 4-way stops.

Not knowing what to expect when bringing my car in for a safety and emissions test, I took my car to some shoddy looking building off the side of the road, paid the fee, and they passed my car. Figuring that was all there was to it, I had my wife take her car in a few days later, but to another location closer to where she worked.

Bad idea. The sleazy mechanics raked her over the coals. They looked for any and all reasons to fail her car, and they found plenty--all of which were "conveniently" able to be repaired right there in the shop. A $40 pair of windshield wipers. $15 to get the windshield-washer fluid level up to the "full" line. I think they even charged her for each psi it took to get her tires properly inflated.

A year later, it's time for round two. Only now I've got a crack in my windshield the size of The Grand Canyon. And when I first start my car in the morning, there's a noise in the engine that could only be matched by a rattle snake strung out on 4 cups of coffee.

My wife's car is fine, other than the squeal it emits everytime you make a turn. It's incredibly high pitched. Every once in a while you'll make a turn and not hear it, but at that moment every dog in a one mile radius sticks its head in the ground.

I have a feeling we're not going to pass. At least under the "standard inspection process."

Ever since moving to Utah I've heard of back-alley mechanics that will pass off your car if you hand them 50 bucks, followed by a wink and a nod. I haven't been able to find these underground ruffians, but they sound a lot less expensive than the guys at the local service station.

If I can't find someone to pass me off, legally or illegally, then maybe I can file a safety and emission inspection exemption with the State.

I could say the vertical crack in my windshield serves as a cross hair for aiming my way through traffic. I could say the rattle in the engine is meant to tell me my engine is running, because it's so efficient that you wouldn't know otherwise. Lastly, I could say the squeal in my wife's car is actually a glorified turn signal, making it the only car in the state that warns blind pedestrians when making a turn.