8/27/98 By the Dashboard Lights
by Dave Friedli
Know the Code
83107. 84320. 85548. 86910. 87680. 88990. 89373.
Those of you who faithfully read my column each week (and to both of
you, I say thank you) may have noticed a number in the lower,
right-hand column each week.
Perhaps you have attributed it to some obscure journalistic device
relating to column length, word count or publication date.
Perhaps those of you who have computers have considered it a file
name of some type or another.
Over the past four months, I expected someone to ask me about it
sooner or later, but neither of my two readers has. Perhaps it isn't
as prominent as I thought it might be. Perhaps readers (both of you)
don't have the inquiring minds I though they might have.
Or, perhaps, the numbers at the end of the column have not been a
mystery to the pair of you at all. You figured it out immediately.
My editor caught on by the second week. If that is the case,
consider yourself for employment as the next Lieutenant Columbo or
Geraldo Rivera. Here is your first mystery to solve: why would
anyone read "By the Dashboard Lights" anyway?
The woman of the house, who does not have access to the columns
prior to publication, claims to have fielded one inquiry about the
numbers from a neighbor. "I have no idea what they are all about,"
she responded. "It must be some kind of identifying code of some
type."
The mystery for her was solved one day when my car was parked behind
hers in the driveway. She got in to move it, and the revelation hit.
85096. 86092. 89373.
The numbers you see at the end of the column is my automobile
odometer reading each week. Yes, there has been the one week I
neglected to turn in my mileage, and the editor made one up for me.
Luckily, it was a conservative estimate, and we were not caught in
the lie the next week trying to roll back the odometer.
There was also the week of no change. The car didn't move. It was
family vacation in the other vehicle.
Because I travel for my work, I have often measured my weeks by how
many miles I drive. A good week might mean just a few of the digits
change. A couple of day trips, and back home at night.
Weeks when the miles pile up are more difficult. They signal
nights away from home. A rapidly changing odometer means early
mornings and late nights, leaving before the kids are awake, and
returning home to a plate of supper, left warming in the oven.
Trees stumps have growth rings which mark the years. Many parents
mark the height of their children at significant intervals of their
lives on a wall in their home. Diary entries include a date. I tend
to mark my life path these days by the miles on my car.
Now you know the code. By watching closely, you will know if I have
been traveling a great deal, or doing business from my office in the
basement of the house on
I "write" the majority of these columns while driving...often by the
light of the dashboard in the early morning or at night...and so it
seems natural to have my faithful readers (both of you), follow along
on my journey.
When it comes time to put fingers to keyboard and put thoughts into
a column, I find the first effort is usually nearly what I want it to
be. I have the luxury of time while driving to work it out in my
mind. Often, there will be four or five ideas floating around my
brain as I drive (which, dear readers, you may consider the next time
you see me sharing the road with you).
My thoughts keep me company. Putting them on paper helps me to let
go of them. Thanks for being part of that process.