What comes once a year like Christmas, but is a far less pleasurable experience? As annual as a birthday and just as depressing? And, is against the law to forget, much like a wedding anniversary? You guessed it. Taking the family car through the Inspection Station.

Many of you readers who may be seriously considering moving to New Jersey, (Nickname: “The What’s That Smell State”) may want to grab the kids, pack the bags and head for the Black Hills of South Dakota, rather than sit in the inspection line just once.

This unique experience used to take place every year, but now it’s every two years, because it takes approximately that long to forget the humiliation, the aggravation, and the loss of self-esteem one encounters while dealing with this state appointed mandatory emasculation. This fun day is brought to you by the friendly folks at the DMV (Motto: “We’re rude, because we can be.”).

The first thing to remember is never go for inspection at the beginning or end of the month. Procrastinators, who wait until the last day of the month, will find themselves sitting in a line that has been known to stretch into Pennsylvania. Those smart alecks going on the first day of the month will only find themselves joined by other smart alecks thinking that they, too, were going to beat the crowds.

The best thing to do is wait until the middle of the month, park your car overnight at the entrance and wait until they open up in the morning. Bring the kids along and tell them you’re in line for Springsteen tickets. In reality, it doesn’t matter when you go, because there is always going to be someone in line ahead of you. Probably someone who has been there since the Roosevelt Administration. (Teddy, that is.)

There will usually be three lines open for inspection. Never, repeat, never ever get into the shortest line. It’s a trap. You may think that you’ll get through quicker, but it’s because that line hasn’t moved since 1959. You’ll find yourself waiting, while the other two lines move along at an almost rapid pace. This is because you are in a line where the inspectors are formal postal employees who failed target practice. If you find yourself in this lane, you might as well sit still, because nobody in the faster lanes are going to let you squeeze into their lane without first separating your heart from your chest with a staple remover.