Hopele$$

My wife has a vanity license plate – MS HOPE. She has been called that for many years following her acceptance of the fact that toddlers in her pre-school program were going to call her Ms. Hope instead of Mrs. Vickers. After getting used to the moniker she thought it would be nice if she had it on her license plate. It would obviously make the plate easier to remember and her car easier to find in a parking lot.

After she got ordained as a Methodist Minister, I thought a better name might be POPE HOPE or VICAR VICKERS. However, in her better judgment she declined my suggestion and stuck with MS HOPE. As her ministry advanced and she was assigned new churches to serve, I found it convenient to introduce myself to new congregations as HOPELESS. I thought it better to set very low expectations that can be exceeded than it is to have people expect more and be disappointed. As we say in the business world, “It is always better to under promise and over deliver.”

My wife moved from churches in Fayetteville, to Garner, to Currituck, back to Fayetteville, to Wilson, and finally to Whiteville. My introduction as HOPELESS always served as an ice breaker with new congregations. I explain to people that I am required to sit at the front so that she can keep me under control. The real reason is that when she throws a hymnal at me she has a better chance of connecting. As I often explain she has a strong arm but poor aim. All the joking about HOPELESS made me decide to get a license plate to match MS HOPE.

When we moved to Fayetteville the second time, I tried to get the plate name HOPELESS. That name was not available but one of my alternatives was and I was soon attaching the tag HOPELE$$ to my car. I got quite a few comments about its appropriateness and a few laughs. Larry Cheek, a writer for the local paper, even mentioned it in one of his columns about unusual plates he had seen driving around town. He speculated as to what kind of person would have a plate called HOPELESS.

I was on my way to work one morning and was stopped at the intersection of Cumberland Rd. and Southern Blvd. in Massey Hill when suddenly I felt an impact and a loud ka-bam. I got out of my car and was met by a Nun in her habit with both hands clasped over her cheeks. She said, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I saw your license plate and thought to myself, ‘No one can be hopeless.’   So I looked to my left, and I looked to my right, and I stepped on the gas.”

The damage was minor and I never had the nerve to file a claim. Actually I figured it was partially my fault for having a license plate that proclaimed my hopelessness. I sold the car shortly thereafter and resolved to just have standard issue license plates from then on.

Now if I can just get my wife to let me sit in the back of the church.