Old Numbers 149 & 59299

I was just reflecting on the place of numbers in our lives, and how we are prone to remember some things this way; rather by the use of personal names.

In my own life I recall old 149, a school bus I rode on a daily basis, and for multiplied months, before purchasing my first car, and driving myself to “Summerlin Institute” my senior year. I mean this bus was virtually indistinguishable from the hundreds of other buses in use in the county. 

Except for that number

And when the school day was done, and the 25 or 30 adolescents who rode that bus were ready to head home, we didn’t look for a Mr. Cook or Miss Jackson “behind the wheel. We looked for that big black number 149 on the side.

Fast forward a couple of decades, and I became well acquainted with another number-bearing vehicle.

Each and every United Parcel truck bears a number on its side, and on a railing which runs along the top of its posterior. 

I will always remember old 59299. Until the day I take my last breath.

For you see, she was the “old Betsy” which I drove last and for the longest duration during the course of my twenty plus years with the company. 

In the same way that Bus 149 was indistinguishable from other school buses of its era, Package Car 59299 was indistinguishable from the same model of delivery vehicle in use by UPS. 

Except for that number

And because of the role each of us play with a particular object, the experiences we have while involved with it, and the relationships we form surrounding that inanimate thing, an indelible pattern is imprinted on our cortex. And it is only natural that one of the first bits of information which comes to mind when that memory is conjured up is its number.

I suppose by now old 149 and 59299 have gone on to wherever the souls of service vehicles go. No doubt, their tired carcasses were scrapped decades ago, and may have been reincarnated as pencil sharpeners or door handles; (or possibly new recreations of their ancient selves).

But in spite of their namelessness and lack of consciousness, both of these numbered vehicles will, for their own unique reasons, continue to hold a place in my heart which may be occupied by none other but they, themselves. 

And I find myself reflecting on these composites of metal and plastic and rubber more times than you would imagine. For as long as I live and move and have my being, I will remember old numbers 149 and 59299 with fondness, and may, perchance, wipe a tear from my eye.

  
 By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 28. Copyright pending

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