Went to climb on the motorbike a few weeks ago only to be unable to find the key.
Scoured the house for it and finally gave up and got the spare key I keep in my tank bag -- the key that’s kind of bent and doesn’t work super well, which is why it’s the spare and not the main key.
With that spare key, I probably made a half-dozen trips over a couple-week period, traveling 100 miles or so all over the valley.
And then on Wednesday I found the main key -- it was in the hole under the seat, the hole you use to unlock the seat, under which is a small storage area where I keep my registration and insurance card.
I’d recently put a new insurance card in there.
As you can imagine, I felt a combination of happiness over finding it, amazement that it was still there, and dumbness for having left it there in the first place.
That has been a favorite trick of mine over the years, incidentally, but I’d always remembered I’d left it there before needing to use the spare key to ride somewhere.
I guess some measure of forgetfulness is just a byproduct of getting older ... but it definitely beats the alternative of not getting older.
Follow Steve Lundeberg on Twitter, @AnyGivenLundy, or email him at email@example.com.