A License Plate Identity

By: Emily Hemson

Posted: 5/30/08

This past weekend I had an encounter with Wolf Girl.

While this may appear to be a superhero encounter, that assumption is entirely wrong.

Rather, Wolf Girl was a plain, mini-van driving plebe just like the rest of us.

Only one thing was different, her license plate.

"WLFGIRL"

The letters were emblazoned on the tree-etched rectangle of tin as though they were destined to be there.

As I sat behind her, in my car, I began to wonder when she reached the point in her life where she was no longer a plain old license plate girl, and instead the customized wolf lover she now announced to the world.

I began to wonder what her house looked like.

Did she have miniature statues of wolves everywhere? Was there a stuffed wolf by her fireplace? Did she have a solid collection of wolf T-shirts?

I decided she probably owned a husky, as they look most like wolves. I imagined the porcelain wolf mugs that she consumed coffee out of every morning.

I then wondered what her husband thought. Did he like wolves just as much? Was his license plate "WLFBOY"?

As I contemplated these questions about the stranger in the van ahead of me, my car began to veer off into the rumble strips. When jolted back to reality by the rapid shaking of my steering wheel it occurred to me: Why did I even care about this random stranger?

It's interesting the facts we decide to project to everyone around us. Cars become billboards for our political thinking, or our musical obsessions. But how accurate are these representations? Is it really possible to define yourself by six letters on the back of a car?

About a year ago, I inherited my dad's old automobile. While I believe my inheritance stemmed from my dad's realization that he was in fact driving the most feminine car on the market, he suggests otherwise.

However, with this inheritance came one very prominent feature, a personalized license plate.

"TRIBUG"

Intended to boast of my dad's favorite pastime, this license plate has instead become a looming presence in my life.

"Are you from the tri-cities?" a random gentleman asked the other day as I returned to my car.

"No," I said. "It's my dad's old car, he is a tri-athlete."

While a simple answer, the frequency of this question is more problematic.

People are confused by the combination of these letters; they just don't know how to behave.

Once however, a woman did understand the puzzle.

The license plate is surrounded by a piece of plastic which states, "Iron Man Triathlon: 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, 26.2 mile run."

Obviously my dad is not messing around as he actually participates in these races.

But the woman who understood this message, naturally assumed the participant was me.

As the blue Volvo sped up next to me, I immediately noticed her license plate, "IRNWMN."

"Dammit," I thought. "She thinks I'm one of her people, she thinks I've actually done this race."

I saw her raise her arm in a celebratory manner, as if to suggest "we're in this together!"

I didn't know what to do. We were in cars; I didn't have time to explain the situation, so I did it. I gave into her excitement.

As I raised my hand over my head, I felt like a fraud.

She had it all wrong. I was not the woman my license plate suggested.

I was projecting a lie.

How often does this happen in life? Whether it is on the back of a car, or through another image presented, is it actually possible to present an accurate representation of yourself through a single image, or a word?

Or more importantly, why chose to do it on the back of a car?

Either way I'll keep developing back stories, and hope I don't crash in the process.

Emily Hemson is a senior in English. The opinions expressed in her columns do not necessarily represent those of the Daily Barometer staff. Hemson can be reached at forum@dailybarometer.com.