Ben Brockhaus' Blog

Here’s an interesting topic: metal detectors. When you think metal detectors, if you think about them at all, you probably picture that cheesy commercial of the guy on TV. “My wife is proud of the weight I lost. But she’s even prouder of this!” (old guy with a thick mustache holds up a gleaming diamond ring). Does that ring any bells?

Well I recently purchased one of these bad boys. If you read my previous blog, then you’re probably thinking, “metal detectors and spies – this guy is a nerd!” I’m okay with that. If I was some weird old guy who walked around the beach and park, wearing a visor and scouring for treasure, then that would be one thing. But I’m not.

The first place I used it was at the family cabin on Hood Canal, where there were formerly a summer camp in an farm back in the 1930s, both since gone. So I used it to uncover artifacts. So, you see, I’m more in it for the historical value.

Anyway, the reason I’m writing this is in defense of myself. Believe me, since I bought this thing, I’ve heard every metal detector joke in the book and seen about a hundred renditions of that stupid commercial. I don’t care! Ha! Bring it on! It’s just that you secretly, at one point or another, probably wanted a metal detector yourself. Don’t lie…