I am addicted, and I blame my Dad. Since I was a kid my Dad has owned a metal detector. And since I was a kid I have been fascinated with the possibility of finding treasure. Sometimes I would borrow the detector and run off with Scott Brimhall and search Johnson's yard. It was the house right behind Scott's house with the huge pioneer walnut tree. We found things like a windmill spoon, an old Chinese coin, and a handful of pennies. It was all good stuff.
Within the past few years my Dad got me back into detecting when he bought a new White's XLT with all the bells and whistles. Dad and I spent many a Saturday searching patches of grass for hidden treasure. My siblings think I am picking on my Dad because he would be the one to get down on the ground and dig, while I would operate the detector. Occasionally I would try to get him to take the detector, but would just tell me to keep doing it.
Me and Dad still get out on an occasional Saturday, but he often takes a supervisory role from his lawn chair as he watches me find and dig up the loot. Occasionally he would instruct me to mark a few for him to dig up.
Now Dad has consented to let me keep the detector at my house. When means that I sneak out several times a week to see what I can find.
Dad, if you are reading this blog, I am ready to go out again. If your busy, Dallas is always willing to fill in ;)
