Title: Full Circle, Fayettenam, and Rolling Forward With the NY Independent Appraisers Exam

 



I just wrapped up the New York State Independent Appraiser 17–71 course. Knocked it out fast. Not because I was rushing, but because the content felt like second nature. After grinding through North Carolina’s adjuster exam—where you have to juggle inland marine, homeowner vs. dwelling policy nuances, and every obscure exception under the sun—this felt like coming home.

This course was all about the anatomy of cars. How assemblies fit. How systems talk to each other. What’s repairable, what’s replaceable. It was the language I’ve spoken for years in body shops, the stuff that doesn’t need flashcards or highlighters. Reading about it felt like sitting in kindergarten again, naming shapes and colors I’ve known since I was a kid turning wrenches and learning the business from the ground up. That’s not coursework. That’s muscle memory. That’s clocking years on the body shop side of the fence, walking frame rails and pulling fenders before half the internet knew what a unibody was. The rest of the adjuster pro was all about estimation basic operations. I could  get the flu and get through that part.

I started the course the same day I got back from Rockingham, where I’d just passed the NC exam. I was still buzzing from that win—no lie, it wasn’t easy. I put in the time for that one. But this one? This one played to my strengths. This is what I’ve lived. It’s a weird kind of full-circle moment because I started out in New York all those years ago. It makes sense that I’d need a New York license to make my way back toward the top.

And now I’m headed back to my old stomping grounds to take the exam—in Fayetteville, North Carolina. Good ol’ Fayettenam. Anyone who knows that town knows it comes with stories. I’ve logged miles, laughs, and a couple of scars in Fayetteville. It feels right to be headed back there now, not to fix a car or meet a customer, but to sit down and take one more step toward a new chapter.. Fayetteville knows where the bodies are buried,  Out of the all the insane neighborhoods I ever worked, It's still the only one where I saw a pile of weaves laying in the street after a street fight. (God Bless the "Murk" if you know , you know) ITs the only place I ever street raced an Apache helicopter.

If this goes how I think it will, I’ll have New York done and dusted by next week. That leaves just Pennsylvania and Rhode Island—some more coursework, a couple more exams, and a few fingerprints. Nothing I haven’t already stared down and handled before. The difference now is, every piece I add gives me more freedom, more flexibility, and more control over what comes next.

This isn’t about starting over. It’s not about switching sides. It’s about evolving.

Not starting over—just leveling up.


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