Not My Car Any More (Part #2)

How complicated could it be to register the car? Foolish question! We started out by asking the school to help us get it done. After all, they carry the registrations for most of the teachers' vehicles. The business manager seemed willing, and assigned a staff member to accompany me to Rustavi, where the motor vehicle offices are located. Rustavi is a 30 minute drive south from Tbilisi, and the facility there is nice and modern, and in the middle of nowhere. And that is exactly where we got... nowhere.

The facility at Rustavi

In the middle of nowhere

We had gone with a single page document from the school, all in Georgian, but I assumed it said something about my car being put into the schools' name for purposes of the registration and license. We arrived in Rustavi and drove into one of the inspection bays titled, "Inspection of Vehicles Not Cleared by Customs." Here there was a group of guys apparently just hanging around. One of them chatted with the school staff member and told him that the school letter was not enough. We needed some kind of notarized document. You would have thought that we would have been better prepared, but no. Strike one.

The inspection bays

Back to the school, and now begins the headaches. The school business manager, over the next several days, apparently called around to all the notaries she could locate, and none of them were willing to prepare the paperwork we wanted. What was up with that? It was as if we were being stonewalled, or something. Was I getting the real story, or was something else going on? Apparently, as a foreigner without a Georgian identity card, I was not going to be allowed to register the car at all. Eventually, the school gave up! Not that they said it in so many words. They just stopped trying. What to do?

Finally, a hero appeared. Levan is a friend of our daughter, and a really nice guy. Educated in the States, and savvy in things both Georgian and foreign, I called him to ask him to help me figure out what we were doing wrong. His response astounded me. "I'm in my car now," he said, and on my way into town." "How about if I come and get you and we'll figure it out." So, off we go. He just happens to be on his way to see a notary on his own business, so I ride along. When we get there, the notary is not in the office, so it seems as if we are stymied again. "Ok, let's go to Rustavi," is Levan's answer to that, and off we go.

At Rustavi again we go into the main registration building, and up to the counter. This office is extremely modern looking and spacious, with long curving counters, lots of computer terminals, and staffed exclusively by cute Georgian girls all dressed in gray polo shirts that say, "Police." He begins to question one of them and, at last, we make progress. We actually learn the exact name of the document we need. Essentially, I have to find a Georgian person that I trust enough to deed my car to, and then to register it in their name. My first choice is one of our relatives, but they are in Borjomi and I am running out of time on my temporary registration. Anyway, now that we have some direction, we are off again to town to find a notary.

The police girls at work

Back at Levan's notary we get some good advice. It turns out that they do not do the document we need. In fact, they say there is only one notary who is authorized to prepare these papers. So maybe the school wasn't lying to me at all. It is a bit strange that only one notary is capable, or maybe that is "connected." After all, this is not really such an unusual request. It is the same paperwork that would be done if a foreign husband, for example, wanted to register his car in his Georgian wife's name. This does happen. How do you get to be the one, the only one, to prepare this paperwork?

Off we go again, this time to the north of town to track down the one notary. With some directions, and a little help from the GPS, we find the office. Of course there are about 25 people in there already, gathered around the one's desk, and in the outer chambers talking to her staff. Levan isn't slowed up a bit. He walks by them all, right up to the one's desk, and starts talking to her. "Go get a notarized translation of his passport and the title document," she says. Aha! At least we now have a real direction, and off we go to find a translator. Do you get the idea that nothing is simple here? The closest translator is a short drive, and there we finish the day off by leaving copies of the required items. We'll be back, we promise.

The One

Two days later Levan and I return with Mako, our daughter's sister-in-law. She has come in from Borjomi and is willing to be presented with a car in her name, even though she does not have a driver's license. This whole day is rather frustrating, but we do get the translations of my passport, and the car's title. We have them notarized, not by the one, but by an ordinary notary. Back we go to the one's office... but she is out for the day. Great.

Back again another day, Mako and I finally have our audience with the one. A notarized transfer of this ownership is completed in triplicate, one for me, one for Mako, and one for the police girls at Rustavi. Hooray!

Back to Rustavi, get the car inspected, pay the inspection fees and customs duties ($813) and... Oops, the network is down. Sit and wait.... wait.... wait... Yes, the network is back up. New license plates. And finally, the car is legal.

Mako with her new car!!