I remember mum and dad taking me – and sis too, I guess – to a Trucker-jamboree in Odense. I’m kinda remembering ’twas related to dad’s work and he had to go demonstrate some device he’d developed, but just now and when I thought of that memory yesterday (Marvin Minsky would deem it a ‘Knowledge-line memory’) I’m picking up fragments of moving about the fun-fair with mum. I don’t recall my age – guessing 6 or 7. I do remember bumber-cars and such. Most of it is from reconstructions, courtesy of fresher imagery and my imagination. One thing stuck with me, though, having been provided money for ten tries of a slot-machine. Nine of which yielded no prizes, wherefore I made the conscious decision to keep the tenth coin. I still have it somewhere, probably in the box of keys. I somehow convinced myself, then, that if I had deposited that one coin I’d hit the jackpot, but that I’d rather keep the inherit luck-value of the thing for later use.
I suppose I’ll never know what kind of prize, if any, the coin could win me. Yet I’ve been pretty lucky throughout my life, all things considered.