A guy named Lee — and yes, he knows who he is — gave me one of the best moments of my life … ever. I remember it like a dream, but it was real. We were in his car, driving on a gorgeous, clear, fresh-aired summer day in New Hampshire.

We were driving on a highway headed toward a mountain. We were going to hike together. He said he had something he wanted me to hear and he slipped in a bootleg, not-yet-in-release copy of U2’s Joshua Tree. I remember Where The Streets Have No Name — the opening moments — the complete overtaking of my senses. The wind from the open window whipping my hair, the volume of the music rendering conversation impossible. The sheer, pure, magnificence of the sun and the air.

The music, the mountain, the man. It all combined in that one moment, forever emblazoned in my mind’s eye — of one of the most beautiful memories of my life. It was about freedom, about friendship, about fun. And this guy, Lee, he gave that moment to me. It lives in me still.

Lee and I lost touch years ago, but recently he found me on the Internet and wrote an email to me, but when I tried to reply — twice — each time it bounced back as undeliverable.

So, Lee C., from New Hampshuh, baby, if you’re out there, post a blog comment here and let me know how to reach you. Or write me back at the same email you used previously. Find me, so I can thank you. I’m not sure I ever did — because back in those days, beautiful days seemed so assured for the rest of my life … I think I took them for granted.