The Everyday Grandpa with a Quirky Plate
Seth Bykofsky isn’t your average 69-year-old retiree; he’s the kind of guy who turns heads on the road with a plate that says “PB4WEGO,” short for “pee before we go.” Living in West Hempstead, Long Island, Seth has spent his golden years embracing life’s simple joys, like family road trips and harmless dad jokes. This message isn’t just a punchline—it’s a wise reminder, born from years of corralling his two daughters and now his grandkids into a quick bathroom break before adventures begin. For over five years, that license plate adorned his car, sparking smiles and honks wherever he traveled. It’s not about shock value; it’s Seth’s way of keeping things light-hearted, reminding everyone that a little preparation avoids bigger messes—like those inevitable pit stops everyone dreads. He’s driven through 15 states with it, and not once did anyone complain. In fact, once, a cop pulled him over just for a laugh, appreciating the wit. Seth’s plate is a testament to his bubbly personality, a man who finds humor in the mundane, turning a bodily function into family lore. Neighbors and friends know him as the grandpa who’s always ready with a story, whether it’s about his days working or those unforgettable road escapades. For Seth, this plate was more than metal and plastic; it was a symbol of carefree living, urging people to prioritize the basics before the journey. Imagine him, this affable man with a twinkle in his eye, zipping around town, wondering why something so innocent could ever be deemed inappropriate. It’s stories like his that make us chuckle and reflect: why can’t more things in life be this straightforward and fun?
The trouble started in January when Seth received a letter from the DMV that hit like a splash of cold water. After a routine review, they deemed “PB4WEGO” too vulgar for public roads, ordering him to destroy the plates. Seth, caught off guard, complied by taking them off his car, but his heart wasn’t in it. He envisioned them as bathroom decor instead—a quirky trophy for an epic family tale. Weeks turned into a frustrating standoff with bureaucracy; appeals were filed, but progress felt like standing in line for a bathroom. That’s when Seth, ever the resourceful grandpa, decided to take it higher. He reached out to Gov. Kathy Hochul personally, pleading his case not just for the plate, but for the spirit of free expression and laugh-out-loud joy. He cited a similar situation in New Hampshire, where former Gov. Chris Sununu approved Wendy Auger’s identical plates in 2019, proving that humor could coexist with highway rules. Seth’s petition was heartfelt, pouring out his story of familial wisdom in every email and call. It wasn’t about defiance; it was desperation to preserve something innocent that brought people together. Waiting for a response, he pondered the irony: in a world obsessed with efficiency, why rob folks of a little levity? His grandkids were his inspiration, kids taught early that planning matters, and this plate was their shared punchline. Seth’s appeal tugged at the heartstrings, showing how one man’s quirky idea could highlight broader anxieties about freedom and fun in an increasingly serious society.
Then, like a plot twist in a feel-good movie, Gov. Hochul personally called Seth on Tuesday afternoon. Hours after The Post covered his story, she reached out, not through aides, but directly—a gesture that warmed Seth’s soul. During the video call, she laughed heartily at the “hilarious” message, admitting she supported the effort wholeheartedly. “I loved it,” she said, her voice genuine and empathetic, understanding that reminders to pee before long drives were simply practical advice wrapped in humor. For Seth, it was a surreal moment: the governor of New York, a powerful figure, championing his bathroom banter against the odds. She even joked about “urine luck,” turning the awkward into endearing. This wasn’t politics as usual; it was human connection in its purest form. Hochul saw the plate as Seth did—a harmless nudge toward better habits—and intervened to spare it from the scrap heap. Listening to the recording later, Seth could hear the warmth in her tone, a reminder that leaders can listen and laugh along. It restored his faith in the system, proving that a little personal touch can bridge divides. For a grandpa who felt overshadowed by red tape, this call was therapeutic, affirming that even in Gridlock Central, compassion prevails.
Delving deeper, Seth’s “PB4WEGO” slogan reflects a lifetime of lessons learned the hard way. Back in the day, as a dad shuttling his daughters on endless car rides, he’d chant it like a mantra, hoping to avert disaster. Now, with grandkids in tow, it’s evolved into family tradition, a playful way to outsmart the inevitability of full bladders and delayed journeys. Seth waited years for that specific combination to become available, pouring over options like a kid choosing his favorite candy. It’s not crude; it’s clever wordplay, a euphemism that sidesteps the taboo while delivering the message loud and clear. Police officers who’ve flagged him down never citied him—they just shared a chuckle, appreciating the ingenuity. Seth’s life story is one of adaptation: from his working days to retirement, he’s always prioritized joy without malice. Imagine the scene at holiday gatherings, grandkids giggling over grandpa’s famous plate, or road trips where everyone echoes the phrase before departure. It fosters a sense of unity, turning potential annoyances into inside jokes. Hochul, during her call, noted how the kids “learned well from their grandpa,” sotto voce acknowledging the foundational role such whimsy plays in family dynamics. In a world of lightning-fast commutes, Seth’s story urges slowing down, embracing silly safeguards that make memories sweeter and mishaps rarer.
Comparing his ordeal to Wendy Auger’s victory in New Hampshire, Seth felt a kinship with fellow humor enthusiasts. Auger, pardoned by Gov. Sununu, showed that state lines shouldn’t dictate decency in jest. Hochul’s decision aligned New York with that progressive stance, affirming First Amendment rights while allowing room for self-deprecating laughs. Seth’s gratitude was palpable; he saw it as a win for everyday folks against overzealous oversight. “The government stands up for our rights,” he reflected, “not only to laugh at ourselves but at others.” It was heartwarming, validating his decades of mild-mannered mischief. No more did the threat loom—relief flooded in, a cathartic release for someone who’d invested emotional energy in this battle. Seth’s police encounter, where even law enforcement joined the fun, underscored the plate’s benign nature. It challenged stereotypes about aging and frivolity, portraying grandpas like Seth as cultural innovators, keepers of light in a darkening world. This wasn’t just about plates; it wasabout reclaiming space for innocence amid cynicism.
As Seth tells it, the saga ends on an even more delightful note. Fate played a role: his car was in sunny Florida while he handled matters back home in New York, a testament to his mobile lifestyle. Returning soon, he’ll reinstall the now-famous tags, anticipating waves of recognition—honks, waves, and shouts of “Hey, it’s the guy who pees before we go!” A grandpa’s notoriety, turned into roadside fame. “It’ll be magnificent,” he beams, envisioning countless conversations sparked by his vehicle. This petite victory symbolizes resilience, humor’s triumph over rigidity. For families everywhere, it’s an invitation to incorporate levity into routines, ensuring journeys start with smiles. Seth’s story, elevated by Hochul’s empathy, reminds us of leadership’s kinder side and the power of persistent pleas. In Seth Bykofsky’s world, peeing before you go isn’t just advice—it’s a philosophy of living light and loving loud. As he revs up for future drives, one thing’s clear: this granddad’s plate isn’t just back; it’s legendary.
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