As a recent transplant to the Upper Valley, I believe it is important that I arrive as my authentic self, but at the same time, I also think there is value in trying to fit in and show an appreciation for local culture and tradition.

After visiting the area for 30 years, I think I have some idea as to the preferences of Granite Staters. For example, I know that they like having the distinction of hosting the first Presidential primary, outdoor activities, and being recognized for their fierce independence. On the other hand, I know that they dislike any mention of a state income tax, tourist traffic, and both mud and black fly seasons. However, from my time driving, both within and outside of New Hampshire, I’ve realized that the true defining love of Granite Staters is definitely their love of vanity license plates.

That’s right: Seven characters on the back of one’s vehicle that can send a message to other drivers about who you are, what you like, or even what you believe. They can be witty, humorous and sometimes even too complex to decipher.

Like I said, I’d like to fit in, but revealing something about myself via my vehicle is something I’ve intentionally avoided for my 45 years of driving. That’s right — no college identification, no political endorsement, no sports team allegiance, no stick figure depiction of our family, no recognition of my children being elementary school honor-roll students (they were), no warning that you’re driving too close to me (you are), and definitely no vanity license plate. The only things that you might learn about me on the highways or byways are that I have affinities for using cruise control and singing along to 1980s music.

However, for the sake of assimilation, I decided that now is the time to take the plunge. As I stood at the precipice of this monumental change upon our relocation, the question weighed on me. Would I choose a physical characteristic, perhaps something I like, or something I believe? How many letters, how many numbers, and would I dare to venture into the exotic world of punctuation marks?

For those who know me visually, they are aware that I have one defining physical feature. While I would like to say it is an incredibly low body fat percentage or gorgeously symmetrical facial features, it is actually my height. I stand, sometimes slump, a towering 6 feet 7 inches tall.

The story of how I came to my current height can be a long and complex tale so I will share the abbreviated version. I was of average height until I was 16, I grew seven inches (and lost much of my coordination) in one year, and then proceeded to grow an additional two inches in college to get to my current stature.

My feelings about my height are similarly complex and end with my opinion that being tall can be a good thing (supposedly I can win elections), but as with most things, too much of a good thing often comes with problems. For me, these can include finding clothes or cars that fit, traveling comfortably, and keeping my body from breaking down. This doesn’t even include the nuisance I can be to others by obstructing their view in shared spaces. My history of medical procedures, mostly on my knees and back, confirms that living life in the upper stratosphere does not bring me all joy and therefore any reference to my height was ruled out.

When it comes to my beliefs, I don’t think any of them can be boiled down to seven sentences, much less seven characters, so beliefs were ruled out.

This left my likes, and among my most passionate ones are those for family, sports, and foods. I eliminated family references since it’s challenging enough to get family members to accompany me without a vanity plate bringing attention to my vehicle. Sports allegiance brings both joy and disappointment; however, the roads are already harrowing enough without risking the hostility of rival team drivers. This left foods, and anyone who knows me, knows that my favorites are pizza, breakfast foods, and desserts.

My ambitious hope was to come up with a final choice that is both a culinary favorite of mine as well as a local delicacy of my new home region. With these distinctions, it became evident that not all foods would qualify.

After much deliberation, a standout choice emerged and became apparent to me, but I was still at the mercy of any Granite Stater who may have secured my selection before me. Alas, the stars aligned as the town clerk informed me that my choice was available (perhaps I am in the upper stratosphere for wit as well as height?).

Therefore, you will be able to recognize me when you see a black SUV motoring around town, perhaps using cruise control and probably blasting 1980s music, with the license plate, drumroll please … SYRPLVR, aka Syrup Lover.

I look forward to sharing the road, and perhaps a pancake breakfast, with you.

The writer retired to Enfield in July 2026. He can frequently be seen at a sporting event, rallying on a pickleball court, biking the Northern Rail Trail, or kayaking on Lake Mascoma. He can be reached at vnewstalltales@gmail.com.