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The Digger :Your Metal Detecting Magazine E-zine
January 13, 2010
The Metal Detect’en Adventures Of Clem And Clyde
by Clem Digger
Howdy folks, Clem Digger here once agin.
I know its bin a while since me an ole Clyde writ to you. But as I told ya the last time I writ in this here ezine, me an Clyde’s been busy, trisure hunt’n an all. I gotta pirty good yarn fir ya this month. It’s a reason why I ain’t writ to ya. Like I told ya last time, me an ole Clyde went to Ariezona look’in fir spaainish gold’n silver. We had some problems to. We jist got back a few days ago. So now I’m gonna bring ya all up to date. First ways though, I’m jist include’in the last time I writ, to ketchup. Below the ketchup is me an ole Clydes story in Ariezona.
By the way, I tolld Frank, me an Clydes trisure hunt’in pal, and the guy who started this here ezine, that I’d writ as soon as me and ole Clyde git back home.. So don’t go be’in mad at Frank.
Now jist in case you don’t remember, from the last ezine isue when ole Clyde got that branch stuck in his arse. Ole Clyde’s do’in bettir. His arse has heeled. An he’s mov’in pirty good.
I wanna tell ya that when me an ole Clyde found that ole ghost town we detected her pirty good. I found a reel nice large cint. It were a 1845. I also found a reel nice small brase bell. It stilt had the clinkir in it. Ole Clyde only fount a read from a brok’in armonica. Clyde keeps find’in them ole armonica reads. An he saves them all to. I fir the life in me don’t know why he’s savin them things fir. Clydes trailir he lives in has junk in every korner. What evir ole Clyde digs he keeps. Clyde says that’s cause junk is wirth monie, an someday he says his junk is gonna make him rich.
Clyde also found a busted, ole spoon. He got reel excited cause he was think’in it was reel silver. I told’em it weren’t silver, but plated silver stuff. That’s when ole Clyde toll me I was jellus. I said. “I aint jellus bout no plated, junk, busted, ole spoon.” Clyde put the brokin, spoon in his detect’in bag, and walked off mumbl’in to hisself.
We staid at the ole cellar hole detect’in fir bout 4 hours till Clyde got tired. He was gitt’en hungry to. An when Clyde is hungry, he’s as miserable as a caged tiger.
When we was ride’in back home in Calamity ole Clyde was driv’in with one hand on the steer’in wheel and his other in Calamitiy’s glove box. He was look’in fir someth’in . I was scarit to. He weren’t watch’in the road, and evir one was beep’in their horns at Calamity as she zigged here an zagged there across the road. Ole Clyde was starr’in the glove box and say’in. “ Hot dang I’m hungry. If I don’t eat someth’in I’m gonna die.”
That’s when I seen that big red 10-weeler com’in at us on the same side a the road we was driv’in. Ole Clyde was steer’in Calamity in that weelers lane. That weeler’s horn was blair’n an ole Clyde was feel’in round the inside a that glove box while tell’in me to hush up cause I was scream’in. “Bless me lord . Hurry. Cause we’re gonna die. We’re gonna die.” Then Clyde finds that jerky he was look’in fir. “Bout the same time that 10 weeler slides ovir to the other lane, the one we pose to be in. Clyde puts that jerky in his mouth and then yells to the weeler. “Watch yir ass boy. Get outa my way.” An then he steers Calamity to our lane. I then said to God. “Thank you God cause I weren’t ready to be kilt by a 10 weeler while ole Clyde was look’in fir his jerky.” Then Clyde askes me why I was pray’in to God and he’s chew’in on that stale bit a jerky.
Anyway when ole Clyde took me home I was mighty glad to be there with all my pieces still intacked. I told him to be carefill driv’in home, but I don’t hink he heard me.
Now me an ole Clyde have a story fir ya in the next isue of this ezine. An it ain’t a bout a ghost town neither. This story is a bout when me an Clyde was in Ariezona look’in fir a real bury’ed treasuir. It were bury’ed by the spaainish. Me an ole Clyde know yir gonna like that story.
Yir Detect’in pal
I wanna tell ya. Me an ole Clyde was in Ariezona fir nye on fir months. We was look’in fir spaainish gold’n silver. Things didn’t begin to well fir us though. Ole Clyde was driv’n calamity, his ole red pickup. We was only ‘bout thirty miles from home when calamity begin to burp like a new birn babe. She was mak’in noise from her enjine that soundid like a million fircrackers was go’in off. I asked ole Clyde if he’d chang’d the oil fir the long trip to Ariezona. He said he didn’t have to cause the oil weren’t in ole Clyde to begin with.
I yelt. “Clyde. You dummer than a bag a those rocks people buy’in. What’da’ya meen their ain’t no oil in calamity. Ya bitter pull off this here road.”
Ole Clyde says to me. I ain’t put no oil in calamity fir years. Cost too much, an I ain’t support’in know arabs.”
I was spitt’in mad. An ole Clyde jist keep on driv’in, with calamity fart’in an burp’in like a beer drink’in fool. So I yelt again.
“Clyde if ya don’t pull calamity off this here road. She’s gonna die.”
That’s when Clyde while he was push’in Calamity at 50 mile pir hour stuck his foot to the break. We was on a highway an that uge semi behine us lay on his horn an slid into the ditch. I tolt ole Clyde. “We caint stop here. That semi’s driver is gonna kick both are arses. Better keep driv’n fir a while. But don’t push calamity to far. She might die.”
Clyde was feel’in bad now as he got us mov’in agin.
“Calamity been with me firever.” He tells me. Then I see clyde gett’in teary eyed.
“If we git her some oil, she’ll be fine.” I tolt him.
“She bin runn’in good Clem. I figure as long as I keep putt’in that refri’d cook’in oil in her. She’d be okay.”
I liked to slap ole Clyde upside his noggin. “What refri’d cook’in oil?” I yelt.
Clyde jist starred straite ahead. Then calmity was burp’in ‘n fart’in agin. Real loud this time.
“Pull’er ovir.” I yelt to clyde. “I smell somth’in burnin.”
Clyde was mumbl’in to hisself when he got calamity over the edge of that road.
“I’m really sorry ole girl.” He says to calamity. “You ain’t gonna croak on me now is ya? We’d bin firever togther and all ovir Gods creath’en. Why ya ole girl bin with me longir then my first wife was.”
Ole Clyde was touch’in that ole pickup and talk’in to it like it were alive.
I says. “Clyde, ain’t you got any reel oil?” I was check’in calamitys dip stik. She were dry as a bone.
Clyde walked round calamitys backend. He was still mumbl’in stuff.
“I ain’t had no better truck. No girl. Ya been good as any. Why I rembir when I bought ya. Only paid fittie dollar at the time. Hell, best fittie dollar I evir spent. You was one ugly ole girl. Remimber? But them knew finders, and them re-patched doors spif ya rite up. Ain’t that right?”
Finaily It were up to me to find some oil. Ole Clyde was in deep mourn’in fir think’in his belov’id calamity was goona kick the bucket.
Then there it were. Under the back seet. Stuff’ed way back there. I locat’id a can a oil.
I showed it to ole Clyde, an he was happie as a pup with a new bone. Aftir I filt calamity, I tolt Clyde. “This oil ain’t enoff. We need to git to a gas statien an buy more oil first thng.”
When we was driv’en agin Clyde tolt calamity he ain’t gonna treet her bad no more. That’s when that big ole semi come up behine us. Horn was a blarr’in. I seen the drivir in my sidemeer. He musta been cuss’in pirty good. His face was all ugly like, and were flipp’in us the bird.
Anyways, that’s how me an ole Clydes trip to Ariezona started. And there’s gonna be lots more tell’in, nixt month. Heck, the venture startid evin befir we git to Ariezona to look fir that spaainish gold ‘n silvir. I’ll tell ya the rest of this here storry. But fir now.
Yir detect’in pal here,
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Ancient Hoard in Gaza
Arkies Find Ancient Hoard With Metal Detector
This next piece is interesting. I also see that the Archaeologist found the cache with a metal detector. More and more of them are using detectors.
I Dug Up This JunkArchaeolgist are just now understanding what many historians have known for hundreds of years. Read the quote below. If your interested, click the link below for more. “Did human ancestors travel from northern Africa to Europe over water? Thomas Strasser of Providence College says that stone hand axes found in caves and rock shelters on Crete resemble those made by Homo erectus in Africa 800,000 years ago. “We’re just going to have to accept that, as soon as hominids left Africa, they were long-distance seafarers and rapidly spread all over the place,” he explained. http://www.archaeology.org/news/?p=521
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