I temporarily lost the 1st custom knife my stepfather ever made back in the late 60s. He was a very well known custom rifle maker, stock maker and gunsmith and he had just given me that knife for my birthday before I went to WY on a DIY antelope hunt. Well, while quartering up the 'lope, I set it on my bumper and lowered the tailgate. After I couldn't find it I was on my hands and knees, searching through sage brush and prairie rattlers, trying to find that knife. I was practically in tears because I knew how much it meant to him to give it to me. After a few hours, and with the sun setting, I finally gave up to return the next day. When I shut my tail gate, there it was. Shining like a diamond in a goat's ass. I felt extremely stupid, but had the weight of the world lifted off my shoulders.
Most recently, I lost an arrow out of my quiver in some crazy ass briars.