But in Auger’s eyes, her plate checks none of those boxes. “There’s nothing obscene about reminding someone to use the bathroom before a trip,” she argued. “It’s funny, it’s relatable—but it’s not vulgar.”
What makes the ruling sting even more is the timing. Auger first applied for the plate when New Hampshire expanded the character limit for vanity plates, and she was thrilled to snag such a witty option. Over the years, “PB4WEGO” became a small but meaningful part of her identity. Friends laughed at it, strangers smiled at stoplights, and Wendy herself took pride in the lighthearted wordplay.
Now, with the DMV demanding its surrender, she finds herself caught in a bigger debate—where to draw the line between government oversight and harmless personal expression.
Her case quickly spread across social media, drawing strong reactions. Many rallied to her side. “If that plate is inappropriate, then half of what people say every day should be banned too,” one commenter wrote. Another said, “This is the kind of harmless humor we need more of—not less.”
Others countered that the state is within its rights. “A license plate isn’t a bumper sticker,” one critic noted. “It’s government property, and the DMV can set the rules.”
Still, Auger’s situation highlights the often arbitrary nature of these decisions. Across the country, vanity plates have been rejected for everything from cheeky puns to lighthearted jokes. What one official sees as fine, another may flag as offensive—leaving drivers feeling frustrated and confused.
For Auger, the fight is about more than just six characters on a metal plate. “I shouldn’t have to give it up just because someone behind a desk suddenly decided it’s a problem,” she said. “Where does it end? Do they take away plates with dog names next? Or ones that sound like inside jokes? At some point, we need common sense.”
Her future with “PB4WEGO” remains uncertain. She can comply and replace it, or appeal and hope the state reconsiders. She admits everyday responsibilities—bills, daycare costs, life—come first, but she hasn’t ruled out continuing the fight.
Either way, her story has already struck a chord far beyond New Hampshire. For some, it’s a small but telling reminder of how bureaucracy can clash with ordinary humor. For others, it’s simply a lighthearted story in a heavy news cycle—proof that even a joke about bathroom breaks can spark a wider debate about freedom, expression, and common sense.
As Auger herself put it: “If we can’t laugh about telling kids to pee before a trip, then we’ve really lost our sense of humor.”