Pedley's Ponderings

I feel like I have a great memory. My job requires it, and aside from that, it just always seems to hold up – ask my friends who frequently challenge it; ask my wife who frequently denies it.

It failed me last Thursday, though, and I’m still infuriated.

Each year I’m required to log a six-hour round trip journey to Rochester, Minn., for an annual checkup at the Mayo Clinic. Long story short, I’m fine.

Jan. 23 was the date this year. A 4:45 a.m. alarm shook me from my slumber, as a 9:30 a.m. blood draw appointment required me to get on the road early. Because my 2004 Buick Century cannot be trusted beyond Spencer or Worthington, I took our “good” vehicle – my wife’s 2015 Ford Explorer. As always, the fuel level was running on thoughts and prayers, so my departure was delayed slightly due to a stop at the gas pump.

Unfettered, I headed to the Great White North, which was alarmingly brown just like here. Despite the existential dread of global warming invading my brain, I was thrilled to be making great time.

My wife’s decade-old SUV is high class. It features Goldfish crackers smashed into the floorboards, multi-colored upholstery stains, weird smells and even satellite radio, which was pumping out some hot tunes from the moment I turned the key. This particular station was playing pop hits from the 1990s and 2000s, teleporting me back to summer days at the pool, striking out in baseball and teenage angst.

I typically avoid the radio. A curmudgeon at heart, my tastes have grown decidedly lame the older I get. Podcasts rule my ears these days, as new music illogically angers me. I have my favorite artists, bands and songs, but they never align with what’s on the radio or the garbage my kids and wife like. Taylor Swift and the Wicked soundtrack are going to put me in an early grave.

Still, this station was bussin’, as my kids say. I lasted a whole hour before I grew tired of it and reached for my phone to put on a podcast.

My phone...my...phone?

It wasn’t on the passenger seat. It wasn’t in my pockets. It wasn’t in the center console. No worries, I thought – it just fell on the floor.

I pulled over somewhere near the Minnesota/Iowa border. Interstate 90 wasn’t far away, so I wanted to locate my device before proceeding. After all, the entire day’s itinerary and directions were held inside of it.

I looked under the tissue box, and my phone wasn’t there. It wasn’t under my hat and gloves, nor was it under the seat or floor mat. It wasn’t hiding in between the seat and console or the door and seat, either. I was totally screwed.

I shut off the dome light and stared into the darkness that consumed my windshield. The corners of my eyes burned red with rage, because I had forgotten my phone. Though I knew I could get to Rochester and the clinic based on memory, I wasn’t so sure I could navigate the actual building without it. Admittedly, I felt stupid to be so dependent on a screen.

The clock read 6:19 a.m., so I decided to turn around. Though I’d miss the blood draw, I could still make it to my actual doctor’s appointment at 10:15 a.m. if I got back to Hartley, grabbed my phone and left by 7 a.m. I did just that and no, I did not obey the speed limit whatsoever.

My phone was where I thought it was – on the table with its flashlight on. I was trying to be polite to the sleeping masses when I left, so I never turned on any lights. I put my phone down while tying my boots and that’s where it stayed because I forgot it was there.

Failed memory resulted in two extra hours of windshield time for yours truly last week. Though I doubt I’ll repeat this exact mistake in the near future, I’m still liable to forget my wallet, keys or butt if it wasn’t attached. Some days you just can’t win for losing.

Nick Pedley is the news editor and ad manager of The Hartley Sentinel-The Everly/Royal News.