So I decided to get a Real ID. Let me rephrase that, I Got a job that's going to require me to have it. You know, the “federally approved identification” that will allegedly allow you to board airplanes, enter federal buildings, and, I assume, transcend into the next realm of adulthood. I figured I’d knock it out one random Tuesday, sandwich it between errands and a very confident iced coffee. How naive I was. I drove past my local, very small DMV and saw a line that looked like they were giving away free barbeque plates, I slowed down, looked over and was like nope, I'll make an appointment  The Appointment Search That Broke Me Like any functioning adult in the year of our bureaucratic overlords 2025, I went online to schedule an appointment. You’d think the DMV would want this to be a smooth process—get people in and out, Real ID-ed and respectful. Ha. I entered my zip code. The screen blinked. The results loaded. “No available appointments within 100 miles in the ...

Hey there—I’m Nate. I’m a middle-aged guy with salt and pepper hair, a frugal streak, and an addiction to stories, whether I’m living them, writing them, or retelling them with too much detail over diner coffee. Born and raised in a small town in upstate New York, I’ve since relocated to North Carolina, where I live with my wife Jamie and our wild, wonderful, blended family of five kids. Life here is loud, unpredictable, and full of heart—and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ve spent most of my life in the auto body collision industry, where I’ve seen firsthand what nature, people, and bad parking decisions can do to cars. These days, I’m training as a catastrophe insurance adjuster, which means I’ll soon be chasing storms across the country—assessing damage, hunting for decent coffee, and trying to remember which airport lot I left my truck in. (Don’t laugh. The East and West daily lots at Charlotte Douglas are a cruel optical illusion. Also, they were doing construction.) Where th...