True story of cache found.....

placerman

Sr. Member
Oct 11, 2005
286
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When I was a kid we used to go down to the trash dump and rummage through the trash for whatever we could find. Back then the dump wasnt guarded or enclosed in a gate and anybody could go down there and pick through that stuff for aluminum cans, usable pieces of wood, bicycles, etc.

Most of the time it was just a fun way for a 12 year old to occupy his time and not much more. I did find an old radio with a circa 1928 100 dollar bill neatly folded up and hidden inside, but thats the only real nice find I ever had.

Anyway, I would often go with my brother, and my friend and his little brother, and sometimes we would be joined by as many as a dozen of the kids from the neighborhood and elsewhere. I did it for about 4 years until I turned 16 and became too cool to be seen rummaging through the trash.

We found guns, most of them worthless or nearly so but also several times we found nearly brand new pistols.... We didnt know it at the time but those pistols most likely were used in the committing of a crime....oh well.

One time we went down there and found a fur coat or so we thought. I still remember my friend Mark grabbing it and trying to pull it out from under something and finding out it was attached to about 120 pounds of dead deer.

Every day there was always the person who made "the find". Most of the time it was something minor that our parents ended up taking back to the very same dumb the next week or so.

Being poor, I remember coming back with clothes that the neighborhood mothers would wash and make us wear.

One day we took a kid with us who usually didnt go much. He jumped in like a pro and waded through, occasionally holding up something and passing it up to the people who stood at the edge of the dumb. Then he found it. It was a small mason type jar. One of those jars they make jams and jellies in. It was full of 20 dollar gold pieces.

A few days later that kids father went out and bought a 16000 dollar bass boat. That was back when my father made 9700 dollars in a year, around the time when gold was worth about 800 an ounce or so.
 

K

Kentucky Kache

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Love these stories, but I can't help asking why this guy didn't share with the rest of the gang.
Anyway, tell 'this kid' I said congrats. ;)
 

Nana40

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WoW! Nice story!!

He should'a shared though..... :'(


;)
 

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placerman

Sr. Member
Oct 11, 2005
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Maybe thats why we didnt take him down there often. I think after that we never did again.

I remember around that time my dad knew his dad and they were in a bass fishing club and that guy just rubbed it it about how his boat was so nice and fast, etc. My dad bought an old bass boat for 800 dollars which even then was about a months pay and then he went out and paid 12000 dollars for a big motor to put on it. The first thing my dad did was take that outboard apart and rebuild it.

I guess thats more a comment on rednecks and how they/we lived instead of cache hunting, huh? We barely had food to eat sometimes but boy howdy we sure could get from one side of the river to the other side in record time.....
 

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placerman

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Oct 11, 2005
286
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Around that same time I had a neighbor that was about 25 or 28 years old. He wasnt retarded, just kind of Forrest Gump smart. He got a car from his father who was a retired Air Force Colonel when he turned 25 I think. Henry took us all on a ride through a cow pasture with his car. He basically treated the car like a go cart and in the space of a few hours had totalled it chasing cows and trying to play Dukes of Hazzard jumping creeks, etc with it.

Another time Henry started buying a lot of beer. Everyone wondered how Henry, with no job and no money could afford to buy several hundred dollars worth of beer a week, but as long as he shared with everyone nobody really cared too much. I know the old lady who ran the beer store was always very happy to see Henry....

Well one day Henrys dad dragged him out in the front yard and proceeded to beat Henry nearly to death. Seems Henry found his daddys coin collection and had taken almost all of it to the beer store and bought beer at face value.

The lady who ran the beer store was more than happy to sell beer to Henry when Henry paid with St Gaudens 20 dollar gold pieces and mercury dimes and all kinds of silver coins, all at face value.

Henry was quite a character. One time he climbed up on an outbuilding outside our bathroom window and was trying to watch my mother take a bath. My mom called me to the bathroom door and told me what was going on and said to send our dog, Sarge out to get Henry. Sarge was a german sheppard and weighed about 160 to 180 pounds. Sarge used to live on a dairy farm and the workers had injected her with the dairy steroids just for the fun of it. Anyway Sarge was a big mean dog.

I let Sarge loose out the back door and she turned the corner on Henry just as he jumped off the outbuilding and started to try to run to his house, just about 100 yards away. He should have stayed on the outbuilding. Henry made it about 10 feet before Sarge got ahold of him. It was already dark and I couldnt make out much, but I could hear Henrys muffled screams and Sarges growling in between taking chunks of meat out of Henrys ass.

After about a minute, I called Sarge and after a second she just latched onto Henrys leg and proceeded to drag him to me, kind of like a trophy or something. I yelled at Sarge once again and she let him go and Henry jumped up and hopped back to his house. A few minutes later Henrys parents took him to the hospital where I later learned he got 273 stitches. He never told anyone where he got eat up so bad.
 

larrybass

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Jan 12, 2006
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Wow! Placerman, do you know how to tell a story or what? That part about buddy gettin' chewed on by your steroid shepard, still has me laughing out load while I'm tryin' to type this. :) :)

I'm new here but I recognize a talented writer when I read one. Placerman, Please write more about your adventures for us here in this forum. ;D I share your affection for playing in the junk as well. I too have poked around my share of dumps, the older the better it seems though. Nowadays I look around in areas where old houses once stood. Sometimes, in the early spring I get lucky and spot a piece of old rusty can or a glint of glass peeking through the melting snow and greening moss. They may first appear as only little humps or bumps which I check out with a stick. Seeing the glow of a cobalt bottle poking through time like that, does to me, sort of what the look of raw gold would do to most people. :D

The little dips stand out quite well too when the ground is still mostly dressed in white with patches of brown showing through. The contrasts let you easily spot old cellar holes, which of course are usually squarish or rectangular shaped. Sometimes these old cellar holes turn into trash dumps over the years for a neat, almost layered, history storehouse of artifacts and other cool stuff. Never knowing what we are going to find, I think, is what draws most of us to this fascinating Sport/Art/Science/Way of life, of Treasure Hunting.

Looking forward to hearing more of your wonderful tales, Place.


L8er,

larryb
 

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placerman

Sr. Member
Oct 11, 2005
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Dumb Redneck stories.....

Im glad you like the story.

Growing up I had a lot of experiences that even now I find hard to believe happened like they did.

I think I was 16 years old the last time I went deer hunting. Mark, my best friend, didnt have anything except a .22 so I loaned him my 16 guage pump shot gun. I bought that shotgun at a yard sale. It was very old, but fired well and was well worth what I paid for it I thought. The only fault it had was the action was very worn and you could have the safety on and pull the trigger and flip the safety off and it still wouldnt fire.

Well we spent the early morning hours wandering through the woods and about noon, Mark, myself, my brother and a guy named Todd were standing in a clearing talking. The whole area was full of slate rock, usually just below the surface.

Anyway Mark was playing with the safety and had the end of the barrel of the shotgun laying on his right foot. He was playing around, pulling the trigger, flip the safety off, flip it back on and pull the trigger, etc etc. Well after a little while he got the order out of whack and WHAMMMMMMM!!!!! the shotgun went off. Everyone was standing right there and I for one was in a little bit of shock. I turned to Mark just in time to see him half sit half fall backward onto the ground. I looked down at a perfectly round hole in Marks boot. A little whisp of smoke came out but there was no blood.

Just a split second later Todd began screaming histerically. He kept screaming "Im hit!!!!, Im hit...." It was January, cold as crap and snowing just a little bit and Todd pulls his pants down and turns around to show us his butt. It seems one of the buckshot pellets went into the ground, hit a rock and bounced back up between Todds legs and hit him on the ass cheek. I know it must have hurt because in just a few seconds he had a HUGE whelp on his ass. The pellet didnt break the skin but just glanced off him. To this day whenever I see Todd I ask him does his ass still hurt....lol.

A second or so after Mark sat/fell down, the shotgun landed in his lap. Mark didnt say a word and neither did I. My brother just stood there with his jaw dropped. The only sound was that of Todd running through the woods yelling "Im hit". Todd made it out of the woods and called his mom who came and took him home. I didnt see him again for several weeks.

After what seemed like hours Mark finally spoke. "I dont think I hit anything. It doesnt hurt", he said. He carefully pulled his boot off to reveal that his big toe was gone. At the time with all the blood, it looked like half his foot was missing.

I unloaded all the guns and made my brother hold them all and go to get some help. He went scurrying on ahead of us while I helped Mark up and we started to hike the 2 miles or so back to the main road. Within a few feet Mark passed out and I ended up carrying him out of the woods. When we got to the edge of the woods Marks grandmother was there with their truck. I loaded Mark in and we went to the hospital.

Did you know that whenever there is an injury resulting from the discharge of a firearm that the hospital calls the police? Well Marks in one of the ER rooms with some Doctor sewing him up and these two cops come in and ask me who owns the gun Mark was shot with. I said its my gun and next thing I know Im being read my rights and literally thrown up against the wall. Mark has been given a lot of good drugs by now and he starts screaming at the cops, calling them all kind of names and saying that its my gun but he shot himself with it by accident.

To make a long story short I havent been hunting since. Mark goes hunting once in a while and occasionally Ill ask him about his toe. His wife is so tired of hearing this story she just leaves whenever me and Mark mention it. Mark lost about 2/3 of his big toe that day. His boot is in the possession of the local game warden, who uses it to show young kids about the importance of gun safety.

Mark and I have been best friends for more than 20 years now.
 

gldhntr

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Dec 6, 2004
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on the furniture thing, my father has re-upholstered upscale and fine antique furniture since i was about 5...on tearing off the old covers he has found many items, including a nice ruger 357 revolver, a snubnose cheapo 38, a nine millimeter auto {star} loaded, and cocked without the safety on, one sawed off double barrel 12 guage shotgun, more jewelry than is on this site at times, coins enough to fill a five gallon bucket that were not your basic clad , bags of merry-j-wanna , and many other things..once a complete 4 peice set of sterling silverware { maybe a guest was contemplating stealing it}.....while helping him out once i found my best find, a 18 kt dinner ring with 27 cut/faceted diamonds, which was in a little cloth bag pinned to the bottom of a couch......when my dad gave it to the lady that brought in the couch, she said she had bought the couch at a yard sale, and i could have the ring....sold for 600.00, made me too happy as back then i was averaging 200.00 a week helping him out........since then, everytime i see old furniture that has been trashed if not in a hurry i will cut the cloth at the bottom of the sides and back, then pull loose the cloth where it is stapled on the inside.....lots of wheaties and dimes found this way, as they are small enough to get between staples so you can not get at them from under the cushion...........on the dumps, while rabbit hunting around the local dump i came across an old part from the 50s that had old drink bottles everywhere, many with painted labels...picked up about 25-30 and put against a tree to get on my way out....they are still there i guess........placerman, i know what you mean about growing up poor/redneck style, but wouldn't change it for all the treasure in the world...beats sitting around with the great aunt in your knee britches and turtleneck sweater trying to figure out how to learn to knit without getting dirt in your fingernails !!!!!!!.............gldhntr
 

landman

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placerman said:
A few days later that kids father went out and bought a 16000 dollar bass boat. That was back when my father made 9700 dollars in a year, around the time when gold was worth about 800 an ounce or so.

My Dad's who had an average income of 10k a year was in 1969-1973 era. Gold did not hit $800 till 1980.
 

WV Hillbilly

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Good stories , I'll throw one in about one buddy's best find . My uncle was a do it yourself cobbler . Not
the shoe type, he was always cobbleing something or other together . He decided to build himself a farm
tractor out of an old 40 something pickup truck . Well , he tore the whole body off from the firewall back . No windshield , no top . About all that was left was the hood , front fenders , engine ,dash & steering wheel .
This was one of those old trucks that had the narrow hood & big fenders that stuck out to the side over the
front wheels with the big headlights mounted on top of the fenders . He cut the frame off not to far behind
the drivers seat & moved the rear wheels up fairly close to the seat . He installed a big truck rearend that was a 2 speed & modified some wheels & put tractor tires on it .
For some reason he brought it over to our farm & left it . My dad worked out of state & was gone all week
so I had free reign . I got to driving the tractor up & down the back roads . The speedometer was still in
the dash & worked alough it wouldn't have registered correctly with those big tractor tires on the back .
Anyway I once had it up to 75 according to the speedo . The master cylinder was bad & there was always
air in the brake lines . If you took the top off the master cylinder & worked the brake pedal gently , air
bubbles would rise up through the fluid & eventually the brakes would work some . You had to do this everytime you drove it or the brakes wouldn't work at all . I & a couple friends decided to take it several miles down a blacktop road to go rabbit hunting . Stan was already at my house & we were going to pick
up Hoy as we passed his house . Both of these friends knew about the brake deal already . Well , we were
in a hurry to get started so we didn't get the brakes working . Stan & I stopped at Hoy's house & Hoy
wanted to know if the brakes were working . I told him no & he said he wasn't going then . After a while
we finally managed to talk him into climbing on . It was early in the morning & Stan figured we might see
some rabbits while going down the road so he climbed up on the hood with his a$$ on the radiator & one
foot on each of those big headlights & away we went . We were going down a blacktop road making about
40 when I went around a curve & the steering wheel came loose . There wasn't a da$n thing I could do
except hope for the best . No steering & no brakes . Right down over the road bank & into the woods we
went . The good lord must have been looking over us because we hit a big stump instead of a tree . Stan
was sitting on the radiator with his shotgun across his lap & when we hit that stump he took off like a big
bird . It also threw me & Hoy off . I wasn't hurt any & I got up & started looking around for Stan & Hoy .
I spotted Stan about 30 yards off down in the woods & he was trying to stand up & staggering around .
I went down to him & he said help him up to the road , he thought he was going to faint . Well , I helped
him up to the road & then remembered Hoy . I yelled for him & I heard someone croak , go to hell you
s o b . He was down over the hill wedged between two small trees . I went down & helped him get
unstuck & helped him up to the road . Stan was standing there looking about half sick but starting to get concerned about the things he had lost in the wreck . His gun , his hat & most of all his false teeth . He
had a full upper plate you see . We could see his hat laying down in the woods but that was the least of his concerns so we started looking for his teeth . We found his gun right away , in three pieces , & kept on looking for his teeth . We looked & looked & finally he said he give up , he guessed he'd go get his hat .
He went to get his hat & his false teeth was laying on the bill of his hat . He found his treasure . This is
a true story . I'll never forget it .
 

K

Kentucky Kache

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WV, man I needed that laugh. Thanks. And I'm glad the Lord was watching over you.
 

BamaBill

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Funny, Years ago (around 30 years) I heard that story from a slightly different source, my shop teacher. Everybody thought he was full of it, but we repeated the story anyway.
 

BamaBill

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The lead off story in this thread about a cache of $20 gold pieces being found.
 

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