How I Fell in Love with Antiques
Guest post by Stephen Buck
Antiques hide stories, waiting to be discovered in every scratch and imperfection. My love for antiques started with one piece—one simple part of industry here in South Carolina.
I had purchased a house, and it was time to start finding furniture. I wasn’t sure what style I preferred, but I did know that I wanted quality furniture.
It was a cloudy Friday afternoon, and while driving, I spotted something. I pulled into a seemingly uninviting warehouse with this piece sitting out front, surrounded by everything imaginable. I walked inside and asked what it would cost to take it home.
The man inside told me the story behind the piece. He explained that it was an old mill cart from the early 20th century. It had been part of a South Carolina mill. He had purchased the cart off a lady who was downsizing.
I took a closer look at the piece, and when I opened it, the smell of old tools and hard work emerged. Everything was still functional, which surprised me, given its appearance.
I had to have the cart; no matter the price, I was getting it. Of course, a place like this only accepted cash. So I ran to the ATM. After returning a few minutes later, they were closed, and the man was gone. Just my luck.
That night I could hardly sleep. I needed that cart. I woke up just in time to be the first one in the door. I had to assure myself that nobody else would get their hands on my cart. I quickly bought it, and now it was mine. I owned my first piece of history.