One of the things I love about living in Ottawa are the many places we can go to enjoy the fall foliage every year. This year I decided to seek out the autumn colours further afield by taking a motorcycle trip through New Hampshire while taking advantage of the minor heat wave we had a couple of weeks ago.
The scenery was spectacular as was the weather. In fact, it was so nice I decided to take a side trip to Hampton Beach, New Hampshire. After spending a couple of hours soaking up a few rays, I packed up my things, climbed back on my bike and started the trip back north.
After about 20 minutes I stopped to fill the gas tank and went to check my messages. It was then that I discovered that my phone was gone, which is to say it was not on my person, or my bike for that matter.
With my mind racing, I rode back to where I had parked in Hampton Beach and looked all around, but to no avail. It was at this point that I figured I had placed it somewhere on my bike before I left the first time and it had somehow fallen off while I was riding, which is to say I had not placed it in one of my saddle bags.
As I retraced my route back to where I had gassed up, I couldn’t find it anywhere. Resigned to the very real possibility that it was lost forever, I rode the rest of the way back to Ottawa, mentally kicking myself for losing yet another phone.
You see, I have a history of either losing phones or destroying them. In fact, I only had the phone I presumed I had lost in Hampton Beach for less than two months. It replaced the Galaxy S22 which was destroyed in a near accident with a scooter I had rented during my trip to the Greece islands in August.
I had placed my helmet upside down in a clip in front of me on the scooter – there are no helmet laws in Greece – and inside the helmet was my phone which I was recharging with a portable battery pack.
At some point I hit a bump in the road which caused the scooter to swerve violently.
Some how, some way, I managed to keep the scooter upright, but the helmet was sep-arated from the clip and it flew into the road along with my phone and the charger.
Myself, the helmet and the charger escaped relatively unscathed, but the screen on my phone did not, which made it inoperable.
I had to wait three weeks before I could get it replaced with the S23 that I had taken to New Hampshire with me.
The incident in Greece was only the third time I had lost a phone while on a bike. The first time happened in the spring of 2022.
I was riding eastbound down Montreal Road with my phone in the breast pocket of my jacket when I hit a pothole just east of St. Laurent Blvd. The phone flew high into the air over my left shoulder and landed somewhere in the middle of the road. By the time I was able to make a U-turn to retrieve it, my phone had been run over at least once, if not more than once. The screen was shattered into a million pieces and it was beyond repair.
Skip ahead a few months when I was riding back to Ottawa from Westport along Hwy. 7 with my phone in the hip pocket of my jacket connected to my ear buds.
I’m not sure what song I was listening to, but about five minutes east of Carleton Place the music soundly stopped. When I reached down to check my pocket I realized that I had forgotten to zip it up and the phone must have fallen out while I was doing 100 km/hr ever to be seen again. That was phone number three. The phone that got destroyed while I was riding down Montreal Road was phone number two.
Phone number one died while I was in Mexico with my son Dylan in February 2022. For some inexplicable reason, I jumped into the pool at the hostel we were staying at with my phone in the pocket of my swimming trunks. In my defence, I didn’t actually know my phone was in my pocket until after I had jumped into the pool.
So to recap, phone number one died in a pool in Mexico. Phone number two died when it flew out of my pocket riding down Hwy. 7 at 120 km/hr. Phone number three died when it flew out of my pocket riding down Montreal Road, and phone number four died when it flew out of my upside-down helmet in Greece.
As for phone number five, a wonderful person actually found it in Hampton Beach relatively undamaged and sent it back to me via UPS. How much longer phone number five will survive is anybody’s guess, but given my track record, not very.
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