Years ago, a lawyer told me a story of how once he was at a lawyers’ event when someone announced through the public address system that the person with car plate number so-and-so should step outside and repark his car which was blocking another car. After the announcement, nobody moved in their seats. It was only after further details like make and color were disclosed that somebody in the room realized it was his car. Apparently the owner of the offending car did not know his plate number. At the time I was incredulous that a lawyer wouldn’t know his plate number. (How the heck would he remember case names?)
So yesterday, I was on the phone with someone booking an appointment for me when she requested for my car plate number (and also the make, model, year and color). Here are two possible scenarios of how it went down.
First scenario, I gave the information without having to go through my records (after all I pride myself in my ability to recollect easily).
Second scenario, I could only give one of the information confidently so I promised to send an email. Then after the call, I hastily ran outside the house to get the rest of the information from the car port (after all, I struggle with knowing the names of cars so much so that recently when Father told me a relative bought a certain car, I told him I would have to google it to know the car he was talking about, much to his ‘disappointment. It could also be that I gave a fist pump two days ago when the letters on a red car I saw on the road confirmed my guess that it was an an escalade).
You choose which scenario to believe.
Growing up, I knew all my dad’s plate numbers by heart. There was the black and white plate number in the Peugeot 505, was it IM 4851 ZA? (Siblings confirm, please.) This was long before the Federal government commissioned the new white plate numbers that tagged Imo State as the The Land of Hope, Abia as God’s Own State and Anambra as the Home for All. But as I grew up and it became customary to have more than one car in a household, I figured there were more important things I could store in my brain than car numbers.
Knowing your plate number will come in handy when you find yourself in a similar situation like I found myself yesterday. Also, if your car gets stolen and your glove compartment is the only place having your vehicle’s information, you will make the police’s job much harder, that is, if they even find your story–that your car is stolen but that you don’t know its particulars– credible. So if you don’t know your vehicle information, make a mental note as you read this to memorize it on your way to work tomorrow (or Monday). You don’t want to be found slacking.
Don’t feel bad if you make effort to but still can’t memorize it though. It may well be that you are smarter than the rest of us. If it’s any consolation, legend has it that one of the most popular scientist didn’t know his phone number by heart, and that when asked, he would say that his brain was filled with more important stuff.
So do you know your plate number or your spouse’s? Tell us in the comments section (without disclosing the actual numbers, for your privacy). Indicate your gender too. I will like to know which of the sexes remember more.