I'm so sorry

It has come to my attention that I inadvertently turned on a digital recorder while taking a long car ride the other day.

Apparently, this happened when I was driving to California, because the device fell into the hands of Neil Young’s record label. They asked me to come pick it up, but I never got around to it.

Now, the entire recording has been mistakenly released as part of the new “Neil Young Archives: Volume 1” boxed set. This as not as strange as it might seem, since when I drive I’m in the habit of talking to myself disjointedly in a thin, reedy voice while listening to country music on the car radio, and the recorded combination does sound a great deal like Mr. Young’s more promising early demo tapes.

In any case, I feel that before the contents are discovered and revealed by others, I should come clean. I have said things I regret.

For example, in one unguarded moment I am heard to muse about one of my colleagues, “He is a fine fellow. I’m so impressed. Too honest and gentle for this helter-skelter life in Ottawa, maybe. Still, I wish him well, and I sure hope he doesn’t encounter any difficulties in the near future.”

Naturally, I am now mortified by my harsh words, and I have contacted him to apologize.

Some hours later, I mutter something about thinking that certain topics I’m working on—I mention monetary policy—are “quite interesting” and, if I play my cards right, I might “gain deserved credit for handling them well.”

I apologize to anyone who might be left with the impression that I regard interest rate fluctuations as fodder for my own vaulting ambitions.

Looking for more?

Get the Best of Maclean's sent straight to your inbox. Sign up for news, commentary and analysis.