The Romantics: Old Guys and Metal Detectors

I missed a great picture about dusk on Saturday while walking on the beach and haven’t seen my subject scurrying about since. No, I’m not talking about sand crabs. I saw plenty of those with my grandchildren via flashlights last night. They highlight better than deer in headlights.

I’m talking about an old man and a metal detector.

It seems you can see an old man shuffling along the beach dressed badly, his trusty metal detector focused on the sand like a blood hound after a convict, almost anytime except when you’re looking for one. After missing my shot Saturday, I had to borrow the picture above from the internet. I thought it was pretty representative of the species I had observed.

Back in the day when I ran electronics stores I encountered these gentlemen. They were retired and on a fixed income and trying to find an endeavor to fill some time. Treasure hunting seemed a logical choice, which is how one thinks after leaving corporate America. An even greater leap of faith was these old guys thought they could find anything with the metal detectors we sold for $29.95.

No matter how much reverse salesmanship I tried to dissuade the prospective treasure hunter, pointing out that our metal detectors were only designed to keep six year olds busy, I always failed and made the sale. The old guys were simply more romantic than I, open to the endless possibilities of the Universe that could be unlocked with the four free red batteries used to power the device of their dreams.

Of course, they came back and so did the metal detectors. Old guys can be pretty caustic when you stomp on their dreams. They would tell me things like “this darn thing couldn’t find a Chevy in high weeds.” It was fruitless for me to remind them I had never told them the device would find anything. If it had found a Chevy sitting in a parking lot I would have been surprised.

Instead, I refunded their $29.95 and they would depart the store, muttering about Walmart having a model for $59.95 that would find the elusive Chevrolet. You have to wish a man well in his quest no matter how daunting.

It was with some surprise as I watched the old gentleman casting along with his metal detector that I realized there but for a retirement on the beach go I. If I were to retire to a beach town like New Smyrna Beach, Fl where we are vacationing, I would likely need a companion. I could get a dog I suppose, but if you walk a dog on the beach you have to carry a poop pouch to clean up. A metal detector is much more tidy and eats a whole lot less.

An old guy feels left out of the bikini appreciation equation and after so much time on the beach he notices those about as often as he does the waves themselves. Still, a man does not walk alone and so a cheap metal detector is a good alternative. Time and lumbago probably have him focused on his feet anyway and one never knows when someone has buried a treasure or a Chevy

Which brings me to the short film linked below that I found on YouTube about an old Frenchman who found something special with his metal detector. I visited the area he is shuffling through 20 years ago and the film left me feeling solemn as it brought me back to that hallowed place.

Maybe it’s the possibility of the metal detector and where your find might take you that keeps old men searching the shifting sands of time and beaches.