The definitions of detective include "fitted for or used in detecting something." This week, though I'm sure The One True Tami (Blessed be Her name)would not approve, I finally took one of the final steps toward becoming a grumpy old man yelling for those damned kids to get off his lawn. I purchased a metal detector. Now all I really need is the cloth cabby hat and the baggy golf shorts in some really blaring colors.
I think there's something inherent in our genetic code that these companies have tapped in to. It's a hobby that I never would have even considered a few years ago, and in fact made fun of. Do I expect to find untold riches and retire to the South of France? Not bloody likely. But there is just something addictive about the idea of wandering around, listening for little beeps in a pair of headphones, and digging down into the earth to see what mysterious objects might lie below us, just out of sight. Could it be a rare old coin? A lost diamond earring? A civil war military artifact? 99 times out of 100 it's going to be a pull tab from a soda can, a beer bottle cap or a rusty old nail.
I took it out into the yard last night for just a few moments and "detected" my very first metallic item from the earth. It was a rusty old bolt of some sort. I don't care. I cleaned it up with a wire brush and I'm going to string it on a chain to hang around my neck. Yeah, there's a fashion statement for ya.
So I wish you all a good weekend and invite you to laugh at me if you will. Oh, and just make sure you stay off my lawn ya little bastards.