Becoming Washingtonians

Our Journey to Tacoma (and the Many Surprises Along the Way)

We meant to leave California for Tacoma, Washington first thing on the morning of November 22nd. Truly, we did. But we still had a few last-minute tasks at the Richmond house before we could call the landlord for the final walkthrough. So much for “first thing in the morning.”

Why Tacoma?

Technically, you can move abroad without a U.S. address—but it’s a whole lot easier if you have one. Washington has no state income tax. California… does. Quite a bit of it. I never minded paying California taxes while living in what my father always called “God’s Country,” but since we no longer have a home, property, storage, business, or jobs there, it makes sense to “move” to a no-income-tax state.

Conveniently, my son Nathan and his wife Amelia recently moved to Tacoma. They even have a small apartment in their basement where we can stay in a pinch. It’s the place we’ll return to between travels, and as next-of-kin, their address is perfectly legal for us to use as our “domicile.”

California, however, is famous for not letting go of taxpayers easily. So we took every possible step to prove we really did move:

• Washington driver’s licenses
• Surrendered California licenses
• Washington title and plates on our one car
• Washington residential address (Nathan’s basement apartment)
• Renter’s insurance
• Washington voter registration
• Washington health insurance
• Library cards at two libraries (overachievers!)
• Tacoma business license
• Business checking account at WaFd
• New wills drafted in Washington
• A Washington-based financial advisor
• One son—and our only grandson—living in Washington
• All financial accounts updated with our new address

California would have to prove we still have ties there. We don’t.

The Drive North

Once the house was finally empty and the landlord satisfied, we loaded the car with everything we needed in Tacoma: boxes of photo albums I planned to scan, a large-format scanner, a small high-speed scanner, our cold-weather clothes, and—most importantly—Vivian’s beloved 1988 coffee maker.

The plan was to leave early and reach Grants Pass by afternoon. Weather would determine whether we took the faster Siskiyou Pass or the slower Highway 101. Luck was with us, and we reached Grants Pass around 11 p.m.

The drive was rough. We were exhausted from days of frantic packing, and driving while your eyelids are staging a mutiny is not ideal. We collapsed at the Holiday Inn Express, slept, and continued north the next morning. I was still running on fumes, so at one point I had to stop at a rest area, walk around in the rain among some redwood trees near the Willamette River, and try to wake myself up. We finally arrived at Nathan and Amelia’s that evening.

As it turned out, I never touched the photo albums. We had too many residency tasks to handle—and we wanted to enjoy time with Nathan, Amelia, and Henry.

Thanksgiving in Tacoma

We had a wonderful Thanksgiving. My brother Morgan and his partner Alex joined us, and Amelia cooked the entire meal herself. I’ve done just the turkey and a few sides before, and even that is a lot of work. She handled everything beautifully. It was a treat to simply show up and eat.

And then there was Henry. He’s three, and yes, I know every grandparent says this, but he is really smart. He does puzzles, spells three-letter words, and has memorized so many books that he corrects us if we skip a line. He’s also an expert on trains and firefighters (or “Fighter Fighters,” as he calls them). He can turn any object into an imaginary fire hose. That boy is too cute.

We visited Point Defiance, Owen Beach, the zoo, a few children’s museums, and even downtown Seattle. I ended up buying an insulated vest because November in Tacoma is, in my professional opinion, “pretty damn cold.” Years in the Bay Area have turned us into complete weather-wimps.

The Great Car Leak & Other Adventures

Tacoma gets a lot of rain, and we discovered that our car apparently wanted to participate. One day we found an inch-deep puddle sloshing around behind the passenger seat. We covered the car with a tarp for the last few days, and thankfully the drive back was dry.

We also met our financial advisor—yes, his real name is Ben Lies—in Centralia, halfway between Tacoma and Vancouver. Nice guy, unfortunate name.

Window De-Tinting

Years ago, I had the rear windows tinted to protect my video gear. A few days before leaving Tacoma, I learned that tinted windows are illegal in Mexico. Not “frowned upon”—illegal. As in, “please pull over and pay a fine.” So we found a place to remove the tint. The car looks strangely naked now.

On the way back to Grants Pass, we had a great lunch with Terri and her husband Pat, who live south of Portland. Vivian met Terri and her sister Aly at the Pleasanton Hula Festival in 2019, and they’ve been meeting up every year since.

The drive back to California was much easier, mostly because Vivian drove half of it.

Back in California… Briefly

We reached the Holiday Inn Express in San Pablo on December 8th. The hotel was under renovation, which led to some interesting plumbing issues, but our room was newly remodeled and quite nice.

We had planned to spend four days visiting friends and family we hadn’t had time to say goodbye to during the move. But on December 11th, Vivian developed a “scratchy throat,” and that became the next chapter of our saga.

The Snafu

Up to this point, we thought all our Washington paperwork had gone smoothly. We were wrong.

The clerk at the Department of Licensing—hands down the rudest person we met in Washington—failed to mention that she was taking our car title and that a new one would be mailed in 12 weeks. She also didn’t tell us there was an expedited option.

This became a major problem when we discovered we couldn’t enter Mexico without the title. So we had to leave our car at Sue’s house in San Jose until we could return for it.

But that’s a story for the next chapter.