The Memory in Smell

It was cloudy. The calendar said we were supposed to be in the season of spring, but the weather still required heavy jackets. I was running up and down a hill by the "ravine" in the back of where I lived. I was seven and at the bottom of this ravine was a neighbors firepit. The smoke was drifting up the hill and the distinct smell of brush being burned was so distinct that is froze that moment in time as I wore my blue coat that was way too big for me, but my mom insisted. As I ran with boundless energy I looked towards the treehouse where my friend was and smiled... then I blinked, and it was 2022.

Yesterday I smelled that same smell. There are different types of brush that one can burn but what I was smelling was the same and it made sense as I was just two miles from where I grew up. It was uncanny. I've read articles like this one that describe the link between memories and smell and all throughout my life I can say that only music is more directed tied to memories than smell. 

As I watched the smoke, and some ash from the brush came down, I was moved thinking who I was way back when. My memory, I've learned, is most certainly better than average, but when I have an aroma that triggers the memory it's simply immersive in just how present the past is.

When I present to teachers and law enforcement the topic of smell comes up occasionally. One of the main concepts I teach is the system of, "whatever happens first always has to happen" and aromas can play into this. If, for example, I would've had a bad day when I smelled the type of brush being burned I may have gone back to that time and instead of smiling, I may have had a reaction and have been scared or worried that situation may have occurred again. It's this that I talk to teachers and law enforcement that, and this can be extremely difficult to ascertain if this is what is occurring, but if a teacher or a law enforcement officer is wearing a cologne or a perfume that was worn when something bad occurred, well, the memory of the past may create fear in the present.

I've toured the country several times and certain offices or schools may have similar smells and it's unique to walk into a room and be flooded with ten different memories of ten different places due to one smell. It can be a bit confusing trying to piece when one smell has sprung so many memories as I will try to pin down exactly when and where something occurred.

I'm sure I'm not alone this at all. Maybe this why there's such a whole industry, or multiple industries in the world of smell. Candles named "Grandma' Kitchen" within itself show that, autism spectrum or not, the shared experiences we have with memories and scent are strong. Next time you have a moment that a smell brings you back, though, try to imagine if all that you do has that same reaction and a single memory triggers a spider web cascading effect that then you relive a year in a flash. That, in a way, is a way I can attempt to describe what the power of scent has.

Saying Goodbye 2.0

It was hard in 2011, and it's difficult now. It actually felt as if I were going somewhere to have it put down. Each mile was a mile closer to a terminality that I knew was coming, yet never could prepare for.

As long as I've been alive saying goodbye has been difficult. I can remember one example early in life when my dad left something in a lot. I sat inside for about and hour and an employee there tried to talk me out but how could I leave when I knew this was the end. The end? Wait, you think I'm talking about a person or a pet? Oh no, not at all. I'm talking about a car.

Every presentation I give I touch on what some call an inappropriate attachment to objects. In this case I don't find it inappropriate at all as a car is with us essentially everywhere we go. All of our memories in travel are tied to that vehicle and when a person's memories are tied to objects it feels like a partial deletion of all the memories tied to it.

The car I was saying goodbye to was my 2006 Infiniti G35X. I got it in 2011 and that was such an amazing time in my life. I never thought I was going to be in a place in my life that I was going to have a "cool" car. When I got it I had been presenting for a year and couldn't believe I was getting more and more presentations. Driving that car off the lot was one of the happiest moments I've ever had. It was painful leaving the 95 Maxima behind, but I looked forward to the memories to be made in the new car, and goodness there were memories!

Right off the bat in April of 2011 I did a tour of Missouri speaking tour and crisscrossing the state in my new car was a joy. I also had several USAC .25 races in the region that saw me driving all over the midwest, and each drive slowly erased the memory of the old car, but was replaced with new memories.

There were good times in the vehicle such as the time, headed to Vegas late at night, that my friend Rob got the honor of driving through Kansas while I slept. There were frustrating times such as a six-hour long traffic delay due to a spill, and there were sad times such as getting a phone call while driving and learning of the passing of a former coworker. 

A car truly is with us through it all and while some people may say that there should be no attachment whatsoever to a thing that's made with so many parts, but I argue it isn't just mechanical parts but rather it truly become a part of our lives. With that said I'm at a loss to how anyone can simply discard a car they've had for so long with no emotions whatsoever.

My car was with me through the truly bad times after 2017 and the darkness came at the end of 2019 through the pandemic. It was also with me when I picked up INDYCAR and just thinking back to June 2020 and the time I drove under the tunnel at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway as an employee will forever be tied to that car. However, I got the car at 50,000 miles and it was over 252,000 miles. I drove the car over 200,000 in 11 years with the bulk coming between 2011 and 2017. 

The car was old and needed more work than it was worth to remain road worthy according to the inspection process. As much as I was attached to the car it made no sense so on Friday it was time for the car's final drive as I went to a dealer for a new car. That final drive was difficult and each mile my emotions grew and grew. I couldn't do this alone, so I called my mom and talked about all the grand adventures I had in that car, such as the time I drove through an extremely small tornado. Or the time I drove out to Rapid City in it to see her and I drove 17 hours straight.

Try as I might to try and stop time to forever delay saying goodbye, it was futile. I had taken photos, and a video, of what my car looked like before I cleaned it out that morning so the process would be quick when I got to the dealer, but that didn't work. When I pulled up to the door, I just sat there staring out the windshield remembering that same view I had in 2011 when I got the car. How could I ever have imagined the grand adventures I was blessed to have and all the people I've met and presented to along the way? I remembered all the potential energy I had at the lot in 2011 and wanted to somehow feel that again. My speaking engagements will return, I know it, but it was hard to experience that same sense of awe I had in 2011 and as I watched people move back and forth in the dealership I had to get out of the car because, in a way, saying goodbye to this car was, in a way, saying goodbye to an era.

After all the papers were signed, I got the keys to my new car. I got the same brand and a 2019 model. Before I left the parking lot, I stared out the windshield like I did in 2011. While I didn't have the same sense of awe I had in 2011, the sense of awe was replaced with a sense of determination. The determination to help others has never been stronger in my heart. I await the day I can say that I've got a national school tour, or a new book coming out. When this happens, on that day, I knew I'd more than likely being looking out that windshield at some point in time. My heart began to beat with a sense of happiness as I pulled out of the lot. When I got to the interstate and truly felt where the car could do, and the youthful step and agility this car had, I smiled. Slowly, memories will be pushed out of where my old car went, but times move on, so do we, and I look forward to reminiscing in, say, 11 years of all the grand adventures I have in my new car.  

A Decade Since The Crash In Nashville

I saw sky and was confused. Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" was playing in the background and I had a momentary sense of peace. I still didn't know what was going on and I saw Debi Supan running at Mach 2 at me. It was at this point I tried to breathe and realized just how much pain I was in.

When it comes to memories, my memory system is highly interlinked like a spider web, and nothing spurs memories as much as an anniversary and even more so when it's been a decade since something happened. Today marks a decade since the first of what would become way too many incidents involving a quarter midget and a flag stand I was standing in. 

The pain was beyond what I could've imagined. My ankle felt like it was on fire, and I kept looking down at my rib area because I was sure I had a foot long knife stabbed into me. A group of people were hovering over me now talking about the best way to get to a hospital. A car pulled up and they considered loading me on as it would be faster than an ambulance. People were giving me words of encouragement and one stuck out above all others. A parent, first name Paul, said, "Aaron, this is just you building your legacy. When you make it to the Indianapolis 500, you'll have this story to tell!"

I look back on that day and I now actually smile. It can be a bit traumatic remembering the crash frame by frame as time went by at that speed as I saw two cars try to avoid a spinning car and as they got into the wall the wall started to coil into the stand and I knew as those two cars got to the stand the brunt force and recoil of the wall was going to hurt. I wasn't wrong.

The person that went with me to the hospital was amazing. I was hurting, but I also was rather sad about missing the rest of the event that day. She assured me the event was going to be just fine without me and she kept me informed with how the races were going. I was actually out of X-rays before the race that had struck me finished. I then, for some illogical reason, worried I wouldn't be invited back to flag as if I had some control over the incident that occurred. 

It was such an amazing time for me back in 2012. I was just a week from a nationwide book/speaking tour and was concerned as to if this would hinder it. My friend Rob, from Vancouver, was coming down to be my copilot so the tour really wasn't in jeopardy, but it was a strong fear due to all the resources that were going into it.

The doctor came in and said I was lucky. Just one fractured rib, a bruised hip, sprained ankle, and a hematoma on my shin. I didn't feel lucky but being able to hobble out of the hospital was a plus. The replay of the crash played through my mind, and I remembered looking down into a car which I thought was odd, but that night when my dad sent me the multiple YouTube links to the capture, he got it made sense and I realized that yes, I was lucky.

Heading back to the track was awkward. I didn't want any bit of a social scene and just wanted to disappear. That was probably half of Asperger's talking and the other half the pain meds. Thankfully I did an awesome job staying incognito getting into the series director's car. 

I stared off to the track where the victory photos were going on. Lost in thought I wondered where some of those drivers would end up in racing. The winners were given the customary guitar that the track gave to winners and then there was a knock on the window I wasn't looking out. The door swung opened and it was a guitar signed by the winners of the day and I was told this guitar was now mine.

In racing there are lots of mementos one can collect be it tickets, hard cards, autographs, or in this case an autographed guitar. Of everything I've collected in my life this guitar is my second most prized possession only behind the checkered flag Duane Sweeney gave me. In an attempt to properly research the names for this blogpost I tried to find a list online of some of these autographs, I couldn't find results from the day. This, in a way, saddens me. I struggle with the passage of time, and this is just a reminder that this event was so long ago. Several of the drivers, well, they made it! Carson Hocevar is in the NASCAR Truck Series and Harrison Burton is in his rookie season of the NASCAR Cup Series. 

I was dropped off at my car and since I was on pain meds I couldn't drive. Debi volunteered to drive me in my car from Nashville to Saint Louis and on the ride the conversation was deep. We talked about racing, naturally, and the dedication it takes to succeed. I mentioned what Paul had said and she agreed. There was a spot, somewhere in Kentucky, that we hit a bump and the pain took my breath away which made me wonder if I wanted to continue in this racing business. As fast as the pain subsided a mile later, I was ready for the next event.

That car ride made me reflective not just on if I wanted to continue, but it showed me the family that is the racing family. My injuries weren't serious, but the amount of texts and emails I received from concerned parents, and in the following week I received about a dozen cards from some of the kids, it was special and kept me in the game of racing. My national tour the following week went off without a hitch and when my speaking tour got to Phoenix I flagged the SKUSA SpringNats which saw a kart end up with its nose in my flag stand. I wasn't fazed physically, but it did test my resolve. The week after I returned to the quarter midget series at the Orange Show track in San Bernadino and it was a much needed "back on the horse" experience. 

As I finish this blog post I'm brought to tears thinking about all the coworkers, drivers, parents, and places I knew back then. I'm beyond thankful to have made it to the NTT INDYCAR Series, but I'm a bit sad that, back in 2012, I questioned if all of the miles and hours would be worth it if I never made it to Indy. The dedication I had to excel and move up partially blinded me to just how awesome of a time it was back then. Maybe the kids that raced in Nashville have that same type of memory. I know I'd give just about anything to go back and work with those people one more time. Of course, without cars flying in my direction. 

The Price of the Top

This blog is going to be interesting. The first half is going to be what I wrote in February of 2011 regarding a game for the Xbox entitled Bejeweled Blitz Live and after that will be a look at what life was really like during it...

Blitzing a Bejeweled Blitz Weekend

February 28, 2011

After this past weekend, if I wrote a letter to Pop Cap Games, it would start out something like this:

Dear Pop Cap Games,
I would like to thank you for making a game that has made EVERY game obsolete...

On Wednesday the game Bejeweled Blitz, made by Pop Cap Games, hit the Xbox 360 and since the first time I played it online competitively Friday night it has been the only game I have thought about.

What Bejewled Blitz is, and I assure this post is not an ad for the game, is a lightning fast 1 minute version of Bejeweled. What makes this game unique, and addicting, is that when one plays it online the player can play head-to-head with another player with the highest score winning.

Since I started playing it I have said that, "This is the first game that goes as fast as my mind" which may be why I am so enthralled with it.

When I went to sleep Friday night I was #1 in the world at it and I knew that if I never played the game again I would always be #1 thanks to Microsoft's True Skill system (I could go on a thousand word rant about True Skill and lay out why the ELO ranking system is better, but this is lifeontheothersideofthewall.blogspot.com and not Aaronsratingsystemsoftheworldrantpage.blogspot.com) but what fun would that be? As much as I love being the top player, what I really love are the games that come down to the wire in a flurry of color and reflexes.

I have not been this hyper-focused on a game since Toca Race Driver 3 came out five years ago this month. Bejeweled Blitz wasn't the only game I played on Saturday, but it was the only game I cared about. Rob, Travis, and I won the EASHL championship on NHL 11, but it was a hollow victory as I was still thinking about blue diamonds and red square rubys and making sets of three or more of them.

Saturday night at 11:30 I said I would play, "just a couple games" but those couple games went to 4:30! I could not stop playing and I felt as if heaven had descended to Earth in the form of Bejeweled. After experiencing this I may have to coin a new term and call this "Hyper-Kansas" because I have experienced many a Kansas, but truly I was playing this game to the exclusion of other events in life. Food? It can wait. Sleep? Who needs it?

By Sunday I was getting very aggravated at the True Skill system as I bounced about in the top 10. I could win 40 games in a row and not move up one spot, but then lose one game and drop three. Every time I told myself I was done with the game I would start up, "just one game". Of course one game leads to a multitude of games.

As I sit in my office on today, a Monday, I am still thinking about the game. I mean, how do I score just a little bit more? Can I beat get just that little bit faster to beat my nemesises, a girl, from England and a guy from Texas? Will I get back to a True Skill of 34?

It's been a long time since I experienced a interest like this. This certainly reminds me of the strength and weakness of my mind. When something gets to this level every other object or event becomes dull. Why do I want to eat since it takes time? Why do I want to go to bowling tonight when it is going to take away time to match jewels? Heck, why do I want to leave the house since Bejeweled Blitz can't be taken on the road with me?

Thankfully I am able to break away; although it was close. I just about did "one game" this morning, but I didn't want to take the time plugging every thing back into the power outlets (very bad storms last night. I think a tornado passed over our house because the pressure I felt in my ears were something I never have felt before). so I just left the house and came to the office.

How long will this Hyper-Kansas last? I'm not sure and I can assure you there was no conscious effort for this game to become such a powerhouse in my mind. Just as I make no effort for my mind to become transfixed by something; I also can't just say, "I don't like this anymore". Interests run their course and some last longer, or much longer, than others.

I think I am going to keep playing until I simply can't take the True Skill system any more. I try not to care, but I know I should be higher than my position. Don't get me wrong, and I don't want to sound like an elitist, but I should be higher than 8th (my position last night). And then again maybe the intensity of the matches are enough and if this is a case I, again, would like to thank Pop Cap Games for making every game before it and after obsolete because I have found the ultimate game. 

End 2011 blog.

I remember those late nights chasing the #1 spot in the world and from that post it sounds like it was nothing but bliss. However, it wasn't. It wasn't anything of the sort. 

I'm not as competitive as I used to be and that's a very good thing. Back then competition was an obsession and the need to rise to the top of whatever game's leaderboards I was playing at the time would rule my life. This is another gift/curse of being on the autism spectrum as that one track mind can provide wonderful focus and drive, but when that focus goes for a goal without abatement, well, the price can be heavy.

That top spot on the leaderboards meant everything to me and to get there I would have to go on winning streaks of 60 or more. One defeat to a lesser skilled player would negate 50 wins. Think about that, one bad game over an hour and 50 wins would have to be achieved in a row. While the game was heavily skilled based the "last hurrah" of any game could see a novice get as lucky as a lottery winner and no amount of skill would've mattered. When this would happen an anger I never had had in my life would consume me.

The fun of the game was completely lost by the second week, and I was either at the office, a presentation, or playing this game hours on end. I was fully alone in this quest, and it took me to a dark place. I love hyper-Kansas but this was different. In games previous that I strived for the number one spot there was a joy in the process, but not this. When I did reach the top spot there was no joy. This wasn't out of the ordinary for me on the other games I did achieve the top spot which is an odd thing for people to understand. It's quite a feat to be number one in the world at anything, I do realize this, but imagine getting it and feeling nothing. No sense of accomplishment, no sense of joy. Nothing but the emptiness of knowing you should be feeling something but instead feeling a vacuum. \

Experiencing a lack of emotion is something I've had on many of my achievements in life. At presentations when I've had conversations with others on the spectrum it is apparent that I'm not alone in this. Perhaps this leads to the autism burnout I talked about a couple months ago because it's like an economy that's all taxes and no income. Eventually there's nothing left to give.

I stayed playing the game even after getting #1, but after about two months and thousands of games I eventually left while #1. Almost a year later I returned to the game and played a lot of single player games until I felt I had the skill to defend #1 against other players. My first couple competitive games were against novice level players, but then I came across a player that was far above my skill level. He was in the top 30 on the leaderboards, but since so few of the high-ranking players remained, he had a hard time moving up even though he was averaging almost 1,000,000 points a game. To put in perspective, I considered a game of 100,000 to be a sure-fire victory in the past. 

For the first time in my life, I was happy to relinquish the top spot. This guy was amazing and after about twenty games he was the new #1. As I fell to about 10th a change in my life occurred and victory regardless of personal cost no longer mattered. 

Do I still want to win on whatever game I'm playing or whatever I'm racing on iRacing? Absolutely! Unlike last decade, though, there won't be blog posts entitled, "A loss on iRacing" or "The cost of losing iRating". Even those that I have played Xbox with for over a decade have noticed. Travis, the same one mentioned in the 2011 blog post, mentioned while we were playing Rocket League, "What happened, Aaron? You used to strive to win every game you played and now you're okay with just being average. What happened, man?" I smiled when I heard this because for the first time in my life, I was in a place that being "just average" is perfect and simply the enjoyment of the game itself, without a view of the world leaderboards, is good enough for me. It's a relief, it's a joy, and I wish I could tell you how I did it or what changed to get to a point that the cutthroat competitor in me turned off, but the love of the game, and not the win, is such an awesome feeling.

Anticipation Before the Storm

 I never understood the phrase, "The calm before the storm" because being calm before an event is something that I am 100% incapable of. I am going to use my past fear of storms to illustrate just how powerful this "fear before..." is. A decade ago, storms ruled my life. Thirty years ago, I was so paralyzed by the threat of severe weather that I would do everything in my power not to go to school. At school I would be unable to watch the Weather Channel. Each morning my day would start with the Weather Channel. I couldn't care less about all the maps, except this one:

I live in Saint Louis and, as showed by this map from 2010, this day would have been a good day. The orange area didn't scare me, but if I happened to be in the red zone then I was stressed to the core.

There is another map I would look at when it came on. Thankfully I was growing up when the internet wasn't a thing and I could not have instant access to this map:

That map is a map of all current weather watches and warnings. If there were any boxes of yellow (Severe Thunderstorm) or red (tornado) in my vicinity I would be a nervous wreck. I would have to stay home to watch the impending weather as it moved into the area.

If I were at school I would not know what was coming. I had to know because my ability to predict in my mind what could happen was always to the extreme so I had to watch each and every movement of the radar.

This article is not about weather, exactly, but rather the power of the anticipation of the event. I covered this somewhat in "Fright of the Bumblebee" and felt it needed further explanation because the anxiety that this used to provoke in me was downright overpowering.

The concept of this fear before the storm can apply to other events outside a spring time thunderstorm. During those times of fright, due to the storms, I would be preparing for the devastating mile-wide tornado and ways I could survive. I would prepare for loss of power, death of people I know, and where to look for my belongings should my house be blown away. That being so, it wasn't the storm that caused the most fear, but the anticpation of the storm and all the thoughts that came with it.

My thought process was to the extreme when it came to storms, but it is extreme in all aspects of what is to come. Before any event, be it nature or social, I play out as many situations I can to prepare. I MUST know what is going to happen beforehand so I can prepare my possible responses.

Open-ended social situations, today, cause as much anxiety as the storms of my childhood. Much like an approaching storm on the horizon, I can see when someone has that look of wanting to talk to me in public. You could say at this point in time I issue a severe "conversation watch." As they get nearer the watch turns into a warning and I prepare for a nasty shock to my system.

What will they say? Are they angry? Did I somehow offend this person that is approaching me? I think of every possible possibility because I must know. I must know because, well, if I don't know then I can drown myself in wondering what it could be. It's silly, I know, because what the need to know causes is the most anxiety and further reinforces the fact that I must know what the storm will be ahead of time.

That last paragraph might not make sense unless you have experienced it. It's truly tiresome though. The silly thing is that there hasn't been a storm that has destroyed my place of residence and each social situation that I fear ahead of the fact has never ended in me being punched in the face. Regardless of this, with each new event I am thrown into, there is a fear before the event and while this fear is always bigger, and most of the time unrealistically large, I will never be calm before a storm, be it social or natural.

So, for anyone who can experience a "Calm" before the storm I am envious of you. I don't know how or what that is. All I know is that I am fearful of the event ahead of time. I know I have used the word fear a lot and I just checked on thesaurus.com for the word fear and they have some interesting synonyms. If you don't want to call it the fear before the storm it could be dismay, cowardice, trepidation, or the best one, chickenheartedness. Call it what you want, but I don't care what it is called because all I know is that I have a battle each and everyday to not give into the fear.

The Problem with Everything

This title is broad, isn't it? I used the word "everything" so does this mean that everything is wrong? That's not the intent of this post. Instead, the problem with everything is in terms of seeing everything.

One of the reasons I love working the race series as I do are the conversations I get to have with so many intriguing people. This past weekend at the INDYCAR race at Texas I had a conversation with someone that didn't know I was on the autism spectrum but that then spurred a conversation about neurodiversity and the strengths, weaknesses, and challenges everyone has. As we talked more, and stories were shared, I talked about how people on the autism spectrum in the racing environment is a strength, but the exact same gift is an extreme challenge outside the track.

At the track the gift is being able to see almost everything and calculate what's going to happen. Truly, it's such a great advantage, but that same advantage turns into a challenge in many different aspects of life. Take writing a book, for example. I'm 30,000 words into writing a book about my career in racing. Think of it like Finding Kansas but more employment and story based. It's been an awesome thing to write, however, it's become a challenge more and more as I see where I need to go with it from where I am at now. To make a concept, think of it as setting out from New York City and you're headed west to, say, Kennewick, Washington. You've got several days of driving ahead of you on your 2,712-mile journey. If you were excited from the road trip alone you could leave NYC with an air of excitement. However, if you were trying to analyze each mile from the onset it would be overwhelming. Are you going to make it to mile 400 without a stop? Will you average 950 or 1050 miles per day? How many food stops and at what exit number will it be at? Did you adjust for time zones in your estimates? What about fuel calculations? Will the higher elevations be kind to that, or will it hinder your calculations? 

I'll spare you more and more potential things to think about on your hypothetical cross country trip, but if you were to look at every possible hiccup, stop, and variable that could knock off your predictions, well, it would be a trip that would be overwhelming even before you took the green flag. This is the challenge that myself, and so many on the autism spectrum face. Think about the employment roadmap; it can be an extremely difficult task to stay motivated at a job that isn't the most desirable yet is on the path to the desired spot. If one is seeing the entire journey from the onset and all the time, energy, and potential headaches that could arise, the goal of the journey will be lost. This is the problem with seeing everything.

As mentioned many times, it's estimated the unemployment rate for those with Asperger's is around 80%. This includes those that have graduated collage! I look at myself and the 25 years it took to get my dream job in racing and thankfully for myself the journey to where I wanted to end up was something I thoroughly enjoyed so there wasn't the fretting over seeing everything. This is one of the primary reasons trying to find a career in the field that one's Kansas is in (Kansas is a concept I created. It's the area of interest or knowledge that a person on the spectrum will want to talk about or take part in to the exclusion of everything else) is so vital. If one does find that combination, then there's a chance they won't be overwhelmed with the proverbial trip to Kennewick. There's a chance that, instead of looking at all the potential variables, they instead look at what all could be seen and enjoyed on the trip. And most of all, what was a problem with everything could turn into a strength of everything and they'll be allowed to show their talents and truly shine.

Race Recap

I'm still excited and exhausted from the incredible race yesterday. It was an early morning of travel today so before I get back to regular blog posts tomorrow, I wanted to share the race recap video. 

Pictures

 Hello from Texas Motor Speedway. I’ll be working the flags this Sunday for the NTT INDYCAR Series race here. Coverage beings on NBC at 12:30 Eastern on Sunday. 

Finding the Friend

If you are late to this, you'll want to read this post from yesterday.

It was 2019 and I had given over 1,000 presentations in which I had shared the story of the soda can. With each telling of the story I would wonder what happened to that friend. The last time I saw him was at the AMA Supercross race in 2000. His name is rather common so each time I tried a social media search I came up with nothing. 

For some reason, while being stuck in an airport on a layover in February 2019, I did a more extensive search and one search led to another which led to a LinkedIn search and I had a hit, or at least I thought I did. 

I sent a message asking if he were the person I knew that lived in South County and he responded by referencing a game we had played back in the 90's. Now that I knew it was him, I told him that, "at least 1,000 times I've told the story about the soda can." He responded a bit perplexed and said, "can? Soda can? I don't know anything about that. I drank a lot of soda as a kid."

His response proved the very point I had told for so long in that what is irrelevant to one, may have meant the world to another.

It was a surreal moment for me. I had tried for almost a decade to find him online and when I did the response wasn't what I had thought it would be. There wasn't even a question as to why that story had been told so much. 

Moving forward in presentations, when those become common again, I think I have to use this follow up story as what was worthy of a chapter in my book wasn't remembered at all by him. And he knew that can had stayed on my dresser, but as time passes things like this are easily forgotten by some. For others? Well, when I eclipse 2,000 presentations, I might drop him a line again and let him know, "Remember that time you didn't remember the soda can? Yeah, I've told that story now 1,000 times."