And I never wondered why I liked metal detecting.
In 1961, November 10th, age 12, I was kicking around in the dirt on the edge of the ball field at recess, just kicking the red dirt clods. Near Danville, VA.
Out popped a 1757 Spanish Real.
It was my stepfather's birthday, so I gave it to him. When he passed I got it back, and gave it to my son for his 21st birthday.
And, I didn't even have a metal detector then.
You know, I oughta go back to that school and see if detecting is allowed! By George, that's the first time I've thought about that idea....