<!--td {border: 1px solid #cccccc;}br {mso-data-placement:same-cell;}-->So get this—I was flirting with this girl in the gym car park, and she noticed my plate didn’t match the vibe of my car. "Thought you were all talk," she said. Wounded, I hit the web and somehow ended up on a UK-based page that explained dvla private plate transfer like I was five. That night, I sorted it. Now my plate matches the car, the girl’s still talking to me, and I don’t look like some confused middle-aged bloke with a midlife crisis. Small wins.