She’d always wanted a custom license plate, so when her husband surprised her Christmas Day with a silver Lexus IS 350 F Sport waiting, huge red bow and all, in their driveway, she had only one question: “And what does the license plate say?”

“What do you mean, what does it say?” her husband asked innocently. He knew about this odd quirk of hers, but he’d hoped she’d forgotten about it in their five years of marriage. Especially since this was a Lexus, a top-of-the-line model, the kind that successful people’s trophy wives drive around wealthy, suburban developments to show off their successes. It wasn’t the type of car you stuck a tacky custom license plate on.

“I mean, I want it to say something meaningful. To commemorate the occasion,” she replied. “Maybe something like ‘MY GIRL’ or ‘LUV HUBS’ or ‘TRU LUVS’ or “XMAS BOW.”

Undoubtedly, he loved her, but the ensuing eye-roll suggested otherwise just in that particular second. He sincerely hoped she was kidding, but deep down, he knew she wasn’t. “It’s a random string of numbers and letters. I didn’t have time to custom order a plate,” he said. If he put it off long enough, he strategized, maybe she would drop it and just get used to it. Maybe. It was a goddam Lexus. How could they be seen in a Lexus with a cheesy license plate?

“Greg, how many times have I told you how important the custom license plate is? This is our very first car purchased together. Sort of. I mean, you bought it. Without me. But it’s the first car that we jointly own, together, as a married couple, you know?”

He considered for a moment. That was true. It was their first car owned together, jointly, as a married couple. And he did want people to know that it belonged to them when she drove it around town, just not in such an obvious way. Driving a Lexus with a custom license plate was the equivalent of wearing a necklace with your own name on it, like you’d forgotten what it was and needed to be reminded every time you looked in the mirror.

A custom license plate, intentionally designed, totally unique, probably rife with misspelled words and abbreviations. How would he feel driving a Lexus bearing such an obnoxious inscription on it for the next ten years? Everyone in town would see him coming and snicker to themselves about how dumb it was to change the ID dealt you by the Motor Vehicle Commission of New Jersey. It was basically tempting fate.

If he ever cut someone off on the highway, he just knew that a phone call to the police and a report of a Lexus with license plate “XMAS BOW” would be his ticket to a suspended license, innumerable fines, and a lifetime of misery. Maybe not a lifetime, but he knew someone in his family, probably his father-in-law would bring it up every single Christmas. “’TRU LUV’?? Are you kidding me? HA-HA-HA.” His father-in-law always laughed in all caps.

“We can even give it a real name if you want?” she suggested. “’EDDIE’ or ‘JOE.’ I know it has to be a least three letters, otherwise it would be totally awesome to get just a single number of digit. I would love to be car ‘1’ cruising down I-287. Just the ‘1.’ Think about it.”

Now that didn’t seem so bad, not the naming of a vehicle (it wasn’t a child for crying out loud), but the numbers. Numbers were cool, less obvious, aloof. A string of chosen numbers, perhaps representing a code known only to them would be perfect—commemorative, private, non-embarrassing. Yes, this was it. People had terrible memories for numbers thanks to the invention of the cell phone. He’d no longer need to worry about ‘TR3KK13’ or ‘SUMRSUN’ or anything cheesy like that getting him into superfluous police chases. (He knew that police probably pulled people over with custom plates more often just for a good laugh, and maybe to find the backstory of the name. He wanted to avoid both if he could.)

“Okay, fine,” he agreed finally. “You pick the seven-digit string of numbers that mean something to you, and we’ll order the custom plate.” And for $50 and an excess of paperwork, they did just that, settling on 5222011, the day they met. Greg always/never looked back.