Cellphone riddle has a familiar ring to it

Sometimes it's better to be lucky than good. But when it comes to technology, it's always better to be good than lucky.

After taking my wife's car in for service the other day, I hopped on a Metro bus for the ride back home. When the bus reached my neighborhood, the driver handed me a transfer. I wasn't going to be riding the bus again, but I took it anyway — luckily.

I'd been off the bus only a few seconds when I got the distinct feeling I'd left something. Backpack? Wallet, keys? No. Gloves, hat ... what could it be?

Then it hit me. My cellphone! Without even looking, somehow I knew it was gone. Sure enough, it had slipped out of my pocket.

My heart sank. I was about to head out of town and didn't relish the thought of going through the hoops for a replacement phone.

Wait a minute, I thought. I was just three blocks from my house. Maybe I could go home, hop in my pickup and chase down the bus.

The bus was a No. 5, heading north on Greenwood to Shoreline Community College. I knew the route well. It was chock full of intersections and stoplights.

I was about to jump in the truck when it occurred to me to grab my wife's phone. That way I could call my own phone while I tried to catch the bus. If someone picked up, that person could tell me where the bus was.

I figured I had a shot. But along the way I made a big mistake.

At this point, let's try a little interactivity. You, the reader, get to guess where I screwed up. There's no prize or anything, but you get the satisfaction of knowing you're one smart dude or dudette.

I didn't try to catch the bus on Greenwood. Too slow. I jumped onto Aurora North and jammed all the way up to 145th.

All the while, I was dialing and redialing my phone. Nothing. But I could tell the phone was still on — it wasn't switching to voice mail right away.

As luck had it, I hit almost every green light. I no sooner pulled onto Greenwood when — voilà! — down a few blocks was the bus — at least, I hoped it was the same one.

Luckily there was a bus stop close to 145th. When I got on I showed the driver my transfer stub. From the number we managed to figure out his was the right bus.

I explained my problem, and he courteously let me run back and check. I looked around — no sign of the phone. I asked the passengers if anybody had found a phone. No luck.

There were several possibilities. Someone might have picked up the phone and was intentionally not answering it. Or I might have left it at the bus stop or in my wife's car.

I got off the bus, hopes sinking. Back in my pickup I tried calling the phone several more times. Still no answer. I was pondering my next move when bbbrrrrinnnnggg! My wife's phone rang.

It was the Metro driver, waiting at Shoreline. One of the kids on the bus had figured out that my lost phone was why something kept ringing but nobody answered. They found it wedged in the seat.

I offered a reward, but the kids were gone and the driver said, hey, just pass on the good karma. If he'd thought about it at the time, he said, he could have called my phone while I was on the bus, to help me find it.

Then it hit me: I'd really spaced. All I had to do was call my phone from my wife's phone — while I was on the bus.

If I hadn't been lucky, I never would have gotten the cellphone back. But if I'd been good, I never would have had to be lucky.

Paul Andrews is a freelance technology writer and co-author of "Gates."

He can be reached at pandrews@seattletimes.com