I usually am not interested in writing about my personal experiences, but today I had an experience so satisfying I figured it had to be shared.

Last week, I got a letter from Jesse White, who is the Secretary of State for the state of Illinois. He informed me, in no uncertain terms, that I had until the 20th of March to get my motor vehicle tested for emissions compliance. If I failed to do so, he said, I would “recieve a Notice/Order of Suspension for the license plate listed above,” which meant my ‘96 Explorer would be removed from the roads, possibly forceably.

I’m a generally law abiding guy. Sure I download some mp3s now and then, and I have the occasional parking ticket or run the occasional red light. But I’m not interested in losing my license, especially not for failing to comply with an emissions test. So that very day I ran out the door, drove over to the testing place, and tested my car.

And it failed.

I had never failed an emissions test before. I used to have an old pickup that was a piece of junk, but both emissions tests it took, it passed with flying colors. I was pretty dumbfounded when they gave me the little card that said “FAIL” and told me I had to fix it. “But I got this letter about my license,” I told the girl.

“Then you better fix it but quick,” she said.

Except I couldn’t. That was last Friday, and I called three dealerships, and none of them could look at it until after the 20th. And Saturday and Sunday I was busy all day. And Monday, I planned to go, but then couldn’t because something else came up. Finally, Tuesday, I pulled into the parking lot of an unknown mechanic, left him with my car and key, and took the train around all day.

Twenty four hours and a good chunk of money later, I got back on the train, picked up my car and drove home. The mechanic told me he had fixed it and the car had passed. It better have, for what I paid him. All I had left to do was set things straight with Jesse White.

So today I called the number on the back of the letter he sent me. First, a guy answered. Just some dude.

“Is this the EPA?” I asked him.

“Nope.”

“Is this the emission test place?”

“It’s not, man.”

I panicked. I had to talk to Jesse, or at least someone who worked for him. “I’m trying to call… I’m trying to call [this number]?”

“Not me.”

“OK, bye.”

I hung up and dialed again. This time it was a woman. It was the EPA. She asked for my license plate. I tried to read it off to her but the ink was smudged on the paper. It went something like this:

“What’s the license plate, sir?”

“It’s… wait… 68948.. 6? 5?”

“That’s not in our system, sir.”

“I’m sorry, it’s not clear.” I was panicking, I searched the page for something else.

“It’s not clear?” She was losing patience. “What’s the number?”

“The ink is messed up, I don’t think I have it. No. I found it. Wait, here it is. 6894865.” She must have thought I was a lunatic. I explained my plight. “I got this letter, but I couldn’t fix it right away. I took to the mechanic, but it’s fixed.”

“You were tested yesterday.”

“Right! I passed!”

“You did, sir. I’ve got that right here.”

“But they were going to take away my license, I got this letter. I was just calling to, you know, make sure everything was OK.”

She sighed. “Yes,” she said, in the most relaxing voice I’ve ever heard, “Everything is fine.”

After all the trouble this weekend, after paying so much money to fix something so trivial, and after enduring threats to my license from the Secretary of State, it felt so good to hear her say that.

Sure, we can depend on friends and family. They’re always there for us. They’re supposed to be– that’s why they’re friends and family. When the chips are down, you can always turn to them, and they can expect the same from you.

But sometimes, it’s a necessary and valuable thing, it’s an amazing thing, to hear a complete stranger tell you, with total conviction, that “Everything is fine.”

“Everything,” she said, “is fine.”