Well, at least to drive.
You may recall that one of my tasks on my summer odyssey was to get a driver's license from my legal state of residence: Nevada (from the mountain to the prairie to the ocean white with foam). The application process was simple. Getting it in my pocket was a rather convoluted procedure.
The license showed up at my place in Nevada just as advertised within 10 days of my application. From there it went to Seattle. A Melaque friend muled it down to me in late August.
But because we have both been away from Melaque, it did not end up in my hands until this week. And its arrival is timely.
I will be heading north in a few days to get my Oregon house on the market. And I will need a driver's license to rent a car for my month-long visit to Oregon.
I doubt rental car agents in The States would be as understanding about my hole-through-the-title Oregon license as was the federal policeman on my way to San Miguel de Allende (an international journey).
Other than that one incident, I never felt the least bit concerned that I was driving around with an invalid license -- a condition that makes my automobile insurance null and void. In fact, it gave me a certain sense of freedom.
Even having everything in legal shape does not change that feeling of freedom here in Mexico.
