I was late to class that morning. So I was a bit over the speed limit, astride my trusty BMW R50/2 motorcycle, heading into town and onto campus. I spotted something shiny lying in the middle of the highway. No time to explore — I was late.

But on the way home that night, my weak (6-volt, you know) headlight saw that glimmer again, now on the side of the highway. I braked and circled back. Lying in the gravel was a Seiko wristwatch, a considerable find for a starving student. Boy, it was beat up, but it was still ticking. I wore that watch throughout college, then put it in a box, preferring other, more modern watches instead.

Forty years slipped by. I opened the box and took out the watch. It was stopped, of course. But it was a self-winder, so I gently rocked it, and it began to tick. Seconds, minutes, hours, and calendar days. Welcome back, old friend. Except that it was slow, ridiculously slow. Hmm, was that the reason why I was always chronically late to class? As a timekeeping device, it was pretty much useless. But I bought a watchmaker’s wrench and screwed open the back plate. There was a small lever for adjusting speed. After some trial and error, I got its accuracy exactly dialed in.