It wasn't a wedding ring, but I found a hunting knife while hiking on top of a hill in Bluefield, West Virginia.  I can't remember the maker anymore.  The following summer, in Algonquin, I found a sheath for the knife, in the right size, by the same maker.  1,200 KM between them.  Still have 'em.

My wedding ring.  Well, its' like this.  I wore it for a year, then started not wearing it, and got my wife used to that.  Then several years later, I thought I knew where it was, and went to get it for a photo.  It wasn't there.  I wisely kept my mouth shut.  A few years later, I turned in a laptop case at work, and checked the pockets for loose change before I did, and of course, I found the ring.  I had taken it off for airport security. I was very pleased with myself, so I wore it around the house like a king for a few days to see how long it took to be noticed.  It was noticed immediately, but she knew something was up and wouldn't give me the satisfaction of asking about it, so I had to bring it up to tell my awesome story.  She was not impressed.  Dirty looks.  I don't wear it, but I know where it is now, 75% sure.

Someday I'll tell you about how, when we were dating and knew it would lead to marriage, we were at our favorite restaurant, and I pulled out two family rings for her to try on "for size". See, I figured when I did propose, I'd give her whichever one she liked but I needed an excuse to see which one she liked, and what fit.  The waitress saw the rings and did a 180.  Both rings fit and she indicated the style she preferred.  Perfect!  Then I took the rings back, boxed them up and stuck them in my pocket.  There was a small amount of confusion at the time.  My sister says I'm clueless.  Maybe, but Lisa's still wearing the ring.