You know what I’m talking about. You get behind someone in traffic with a personalized plate and you spend 12 red lights trying to figure out what the hell it means. You veer from your regular path and follow the car 19 miles out of the way and you’re still scratching your head wondering if even the owner knows what the plate says.
My daughter got a personalized plate with her first car. It was INDROCK. She really was into Independent Rock Artists, therefore Ind-Rock. Someone pointed out to her one day that they thought she was a crack addict because her plate read, “I need rock.” She switched to a standard plate with the next tag renewal.
Today I got behind a guy who had “BLTROX” on his gas guzzler. I thought, “This dude really likes sandwiches.” I think I’ll apply for “TACONUT” when I renew. What? I really like tacos. Dang!