You know how some people just have a knack for things and some people don't? Well, I finally figured out what I do best — I really know how to lose things. While that may not seem like much of a talent to most of you, please understand that I don't lose standard items like a pack of gum or a quarter. I lose important items like my entire set of keys. This is not your average set of keys I am talking about, but about 30 keys on a mountain climber's D-ring — enough to open various locks at four houses. I don't think whoever finds them will think them nearly so valuable as I did. At least I hope not.

I didn't lose them in the standard sort of way, either.

It all started the Saturday before last when I was getting something out of the truck. I had to have my keys to open a lock, so I pulled the lock keys off of the truck keys and left the truck key in the switch. Then I opened the lock and, since I had my hands full, tossed the keys on the hood of the truck. That was the last time I ever saw them alive.

I started my search later that evening when I realized that they were gone. I looked high and low (mostly low) but couldn't turn them up.

I thought I had learned my lesson, but a little later, my sunglasses suffered exactly the same fate as my keys. Go figure. If there's anything I lose more than anything, it's sunglasses. I either have to buy a pair once a month or do without. In searching for my keys, I walked over the entire stretch of road from point to point, but found no sign of the keys.

Nonetheless, I did find other things that seemed interesting as I walked. In fact, I think I could turn up almost enough items to survive just by walking along the road.

I found a broken socket wrench, a nice adjustable wrench, a pair of welder's gloves, a foot peg for a motorcycle and a tattered American flag. All of which made me feel better somewhat, realizing that maybe I'm not the only one who accidentally leaves items on a vehicle.

Even so, most of what I saw on the roadsides wasn't dropped by accident. Most of what I saw was garbage, plain and simple.

Guess which item was in the best supply? Beer bottles and cans were the most plentiful. Either a lot of folks like to ride around and drink beer or a lot of folks like to drink beer at home and ride around and toss out the cans. Second most plentiful were other beverage containers, followed by everything else — plastic bags and wrappers, papers of all descriptions and other items. Third most plentiful were dead possums. I don't know where they all come from, but they sure do die en masse along our highways.

After all that walking, I just gave up and headed back, somewhat disheartened by the loss of my keys but feeling better just for having a quiet walk. I later managed to find copies of most of them in my spare keys, but I still don't have some of them. You know, I may be better off anyhow. Maybe I need to figure out a way to get rid of even more of my keys. Every key a man carries represents a responsibility of one kind or another. Adding insult to injury, I must note that the majority of my keys come with payment books.

At least until someone invents ‘James Bond' eye and palm scanners for everyday use, we're stuck with carrying around wads of keys.

I guess the best solution is to not lock anything to start with. I didn't once think that would be an option, but I do now. You see, the house I lived in last was burglarized. The back door was just bashed in and the robbers came in and helped themselves to my briefcase, a shotgun and some change. Perhaps if I'd left the door unlocked they wouldn't have kicked it in to get in the house. I remember hearing of a fellow with a sign on his cabin stating, "The door's unlocked, so take what you need. Please shut it back when you leave."

If you follow this line of thinking far enough, you end up with no possessions. You have no keys, therefore you have nothing worth stealing after a period of time. There are no bills, since you have nothing, but you still need to eat once in awhile. So, you end up walking down the road looking for soda cans and broken socket wrenches. I used to see a fellow who did that every day to make his living. He was partially disabled from the service and had a little wagon that he pulled along behind himself, filling it with cans, bottles and assorted road refuse.

He didn't do it only for the money, although it helped. He always kept my road clear of trash of all kinds, including things of no value like paper bags. Sometimes we would chat as he passed my house. I recall reflecting on what a simple life he seemed to live. However, even though he had what I want the worst, plenty of time on his hands, he was on a fixed income and lacked and needed money just to pay for his medicines, electricity and food. I once read that of time and money, you either have one or the other — never both at the same time. If you think about it, we are always trading one for the other in life, but in the end, no one will be willing to trade. I sometimes think of that. I might wish for time to relive portions of our lives where we made the worst mistakes. I might also want to go back and reclaim happiness from the past, made much more rosy by the sheen of the years. I don't think I'll wish for another dollar, but I'm really in no hurry to find out.

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