This is the first in what could an endless series about African bureacracy. And considering how tame South Africa is compared to the rest of the continent, I really have no friggin’ idea what I’m talking about.

When I purchased my motorcycle in Port Elizabeth, the motor vehicle department naturally wanted to know where I lived in order to be able to send me parking tickets and the traffic fines caught by South Africa’s surprisingly comprehensive set of speed cameras installed anywhere and everywhere.

Since I don’t plan on ever paying a parking ticket or fine in this country (stickin’ it to the man), I decided to use a random address in Cape Town. Normally in any part of the US, this wouldn’t a problem - they won’t verify it, and I’m SOL if I don’t leave the country as they’ll get me when I try to re-register the bike, pay property tax, etc. But this isn’t any part of the US, obviously.

When I gave my fake address, the motor vehicle department told me I needed a court affidavit to prove I live there as Cape Town was in a different province. But, if I had simply put a fake Port Elizabeth address, the clerk (and she told me as such) wouldn’t have batted an eye. So instead of going down to the courthouse and getting an affidavit, which incidentally would not have required any proof of residence, but simply me saying on record “I live in X,” I decided to register the bike in Cape Town.

This time, the clerk let me register the bike with my fake Cape Town address without a hitch (as per policy as I was in the Western Cape,) and for about $12 US and no tax on the value of the bike (unlike the pirates at the California DMV), I was all set.

The moral of the story: Rules are rules, except when they’re not.