The lot where my former truck is being housed isn't too far from where I work, and so rather than mail the title to the insurance adjustor, I decided to drive it over to him with the hope of expediting the process just a little. He was very cordial and after signing my name in the appropriate places on the back, he asked me if I want to go over to the actual lot and give the truck a final look-see. Perhaps I'd overlooked some personal possession?
So I said, "Sure."
As we walked down the hill to where my truck was resting amidst a little "graveyard" of mangled vehicles, he said, "Oh darn. It still has its plates on it. I'll have to mail those to you."
Stepping on up to the imploded front end, I reached out to grab the contorted plastic mount where the license plate was still clinging. With an easy twist, it snapped completely off.
I held it up for the adjustor to see and said, "I don't think that will be necessary."
Taking my lead, he quickly went around to the tailgate and with a quarter pulled from his pocket removed the rear plate, too.
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