I recently wrote about trading my Bronco for a mobile home that I didn't need.

Now I am trying to figure out what I can do with said mobile home. Since it was mobile, I decided to move it. That was a start. Next I had to decide where to move it.

I thought I might set it up on my land in Virginia. That didn't sound like a bad idea. I called several movers (but not shakers) and asked them to come and take a look. I finally got ahold of a real nice fellow who said that he and his brother would be happy to do the grading work, moving and everything.

I was ecstatic. This was going well. I like it when things go well. Then I was told that I needed to contact the health department and tell them that I planned to use the well and septic I already have. That made very little sense to me, but I called nonetheless.

Some official sounding person told me that I needed to test my water to see if it has germs in it. "It never killed me before," I explained. "You still must have that test run before you can hook up anything under code blah blah blah," he said.

That test costs $25. So I arrange to have that done.

The health guy tells me how far I must keep the home from the leach lines, septic tank and more stuff I can't remember.

Next, I am told by the building official that I need to be so many feet from the property line and so many feet from the road. I was OK there. Then I hear from the power company that I have a certain type of line running over my land that I have to stay 30 feet away from. I am beginning to have a geometry problem here. I made a "C" in geometry. About the only thing I could do with geometry was spell it.

But I sat down to draw out the land, the lines and regulations, feeling like I had a hypotenuse around my neck on a gallows of parallel lines and incongruous angles.

I gave up on the paper and went out with a 50-foot tape and measured off everything, marking my imaginary boundaries with empty soda bottles and sticks. It looked like a mine field.

Finally figuring out that I had room to meet most of the regulations, I decided to give it a go.

I had the fellow come in and start carving me a level spot. He told me to go and get a building permit.

I went to the office, only to discover that a mobile home prior to year 1981 cannot be placed on a lot in that county unless it is already in that county.

No problem. Mine was already in that county.

So they say to me, "I can't find it on the tax books. Have you ever paid taxes on it before?"

I explained that I had just purchased it. I didn't bother telling them about the Bronco trade. It turns out that the previous owners had paid their taxes to the city, half of which is in one county and the other half of which is in the other.

All-righty then. My mobile home is on the same county side, meaning that it is in the same county.

Prove it, they told me.

"How do I do that?" I asked, feigning sweetness, but really wanting to tie that so-and-so into a good Cub Scout pretzel knot.

"Usually people do that by showing their tax tickets," Mr. Bureaucrat said smugly. "I have to get another cup of, I mean call," he said, hanging up. I wouldn't want to interrupt his desk-heel cooperation time, so I didn't bother calling back. I just sat for a while and stewed in my own angry juices.

Why is it that you have to go through a hundred and seventy channels to get anything done these days? It would seem that these services could easily be consolidated under a single roof.

Instead you get sent, like a pinball, spinning from one office to another on scavenger hunts for frivolous forms and documents, only to find that you really needed a form in the first office before you can get the form in the second.

It's enough to make you crazy.

It all really seems like a monumental waste of time.

I had done this kind of thing before, but didn't remember it being even close to this difficult. Perhaps my memories have un-jaded themselves. Then again, perhaps the people I dealt with before are now sitting on a porch of a one-room shack somewhere, whittling like Uncle Jed and wishing they were still in power so that they and everyone else could set up their 1970-something mobile homes on their own land and utilize indoor plumbing.

If I could afford to buy land here in Alleghany, I swear I would just move everything up here and be done with it. The people seem to be a lot easier to work with... and closer at hand, too. But alas, I have overexpended my resources and am unable to buy local land, especially since some of the dirt here has the value of low-grade gold. Also, as you must realize by now, I have just ensured that my inspection will be the most thorough in history, down to the tack heads. I can hear them laughing at my ignorance now. Well, at least I'll feel better for a while.

On a lighter note, I went over to the land to move one of my old cars out of the way of the grading. A friend and I went and decided that it would be best not to try and start it, since the motor was missing. Literally. It was on near-level ground and the tires were still good, so I thought I might push it onto a better place. I stood out back and my helper got to the front door, prepared the car for moving by disengaging the brake and prepared to hop in and steer. The car wouldn't budge. It wouldn't even rock. Not wanting to waste time or my back, I broke out the chain and hooked it under the old car's nickel-plated bumper to the frame. My accomplice was supposed to be the driver for the old car, while I utilized the truck to pull it a safe distance away.

He disengaged the parking brake again and I eased up until the chain was taut. Then I eased forward some more, realizing that the car's back wheels were biting deep ruts into the soft shale. I thought perhaps the brake had locked, so he applied it and disengaged it again. Same result. I told my helper to let me in the car and have a look-see.

That was when I realized that he had yet to take the car out of park. Sometimes it is the simple stuff that can hang you up in life. The trick, someone once told me, is not to sweat the small stuff - and it's all small stuff.

Get more tongue in cheek commentary this week's issue of the Alleghany News!

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