So I went to register my car in California today. I recently moved here and it has been on my to-do list for quite a while. I walked in to AAA at 8:45 am and joined the line that was already forming outside. I knew this would probably happen so I came prepared. I had all my documents in my hand, and I even called ahead to make sure I only had to come here once. (Hint: you need a smog test.)

At 9:01 I am ushered in and sent to visit a lady in a floral top with short brown hair. She helps me fill out every form while gently answering all of my what-are-probably-stupid questions because I know very little about cars and even less about car registration. But she was patient, and super kind and she gladly helped me through the entire process.

Then it was time to inspect my car. The final step. We walked to my car and she proceeded to write a few things down on her clipboard. Now, I was feeling pretty self-conscious because I knew I had just asked her a lot of questions, questions that I probably should have known the answers to. I was worried she was silently judging me and I wanted to clear the air. So I thanked her for her patience. Told her I really appreciated it. She said of course! And she seemed genuinely happy to have helped me today.

On the final step of the car inspection she asked me if I knew how to open my hood and I lit up. I was beaming with pride because this question, THIS one I actually knew the answer to. I said, “Yes I do!” And I was so genuinely proud of myself in this moment. I knew how to do this, and once I showed her that, she would believe that I actually knew something about this piece of machinery. So full of pride, full of joy, and full of hope for redemption I put my hand on the handle of my trunk, opened my trunk, and then beamed at her.

I learned two things today.

1. The hood of your car is not your trunk.
2. I don’t actually know how to open the hood of my car.