Every watch has a story, whether you are its first owner or its tenth owner. Every time I see this watch in my bedstand drawer I think of one particular, amazing chain of events.


One day in 1995 I received an urgent call from a client, asking me to fly from the US to a remote mine site in Colombia. I was to collect geological exploration data from the most recent drilling programme (on a different site), interview the geologists who were based there, then fly on to Switzerland for a meeting two days later in the small town of Zug. As I traveled from the US, I flew on successively smaller aircraft until I landed in a single-engine plane on a dusty airstrip in a remote part of Colombia, near the border with Venezuela. I was met at the airstrip by a small pickup truck which carried several men with machine guns riding in the bed of the truck. This part of the country was, and still is, under threat from a violent guerrilla insurgency. I rode in the cab of the truck to the mine's main office, wondering if the guys in the back of the truck had had to fire their guns in recent days.

I did what I needed to do at the mine, then went on to Switzerland. When I walked out of the air terminal in Zurich I was met by a chauffeur carrying a placard with my name on it -- the first, and last time this has ever happened to me. I remember thinking that my trip was beginning to take on a real James Bond flavour. I got into the back seat of a black, S-Class Mercedes and was whisked through the night to my hotel in Zug.

My James Bond story even included a real-life, shadowy character. The company I was working for was headed by Marc Rich (now deceased), who had gotten into some tax trouble in the US, as well as having been involved in oil trading with Iran when it was (and still is) a big no-no. There was an arrest warrant issued for Mr. Rich but somehow he made it out of the US and into Switzerland, where he set up shop in Zug. If you Google March Rich, you'll find all kinds of interesting stuff, including one particularly juicy story on how he received a presidential pardon from Bill Clinton on Clinton's last day in office. But, I digress.

My assignment for this particular project was to present technical information and answer questions regarding a mining property in Colombia which Mr. Rich's company held, and was trying to sell to a South African company. There were multiple meetings with the South Africans, which at times got pretty intense, and then my assignment was completed. I felt relieved, and satisfied as I walked along a pleasant street in the commercial centre of Zug. It had been a challenging job, and I felt like I needed to reward myself for a job well done. I walked into a jewelry shop and began looking at watches.

Up to that moment, I had never owned or worn a watch that cost more than $50. I'm sure that day in Zug I was wearing my usual plastic, LCD sports watch. Then I saw the watch (pictured above) and fell in love with it. I paid about $US 1,000 for it, which in my mind was an enormous extravagance. (my, O my, how our perspectives can change over time!) The fact that it was a quartz watch meant nothing to me one way or another. This was my first Watch Love.

Nice story, yes? But the most amazing part my watch's story is yet to come.

A few months after my experience in Zug, I was back in Colombia on another assignment. I was in the capital city, Bogota, to meet with government officials in the Ministry of Mines. I had some time to kill one morning (interesting choice of words, as you'll see) before my first meeting so I decided to ride a cable tram to the top of a peak that overlooks downtown Bogota. As I walked along a busy street toward the tram terminal, I was suddenly surrounded by four young thugs, all brandishing knives. As one of the thugs held a knife to my liver area, the others proceeded to take my wallet, belt, camera, and then my jeans. Yes, they wanted my pants, I suppose because they had a designer label on the back.

While one guy was trying to remove my pants as I balanced, rather awkwardly, on one foot, another of the thugs found an inexpensive silver bracelet on my right wrist (a gift from my sweetheart) and removed it as well. Anticipating what would surely happen next, I thought to myself: "well...that watch was awfully nice while I had it". But honestly, I didn't care if it was taken; I only wanted to live through the morning.

Just as I had gotten out of one pant leg, and the embarrassment of standing in the street in my underpants was now piled onto mortal fear, something spooked the young thugs and they vanished, as quickly as they had appeared. I was alive, and in fact, completely unscathed (physically, anyway). As I put my pants, and then shoes, back on, the feeling of fear was replaced by overwhelming feelings of relief and thanksgiving.

Later that day, after my (thankfully mind-distracting) meetings were over, I sat alone in my hotel room and began shaking as memories of the morning's experience came back, rather vividly. That's when I first thought again of my watch, which to my utter amazement, was still on my wrist. It is now my Thanksgiving Watch.

I apologize for the length of my story, but I nevertheless hope that you enjoyed reading one watch's story.

What about your watch stories? I'd love to read some!

 

I have wanted an Omega Speedmaster Professional Moonwatch for 15 years. I consider it the ultimate pilot watch since I consider astronauts to be the ultimate pilots. A friend of mine who is an American Airlines pilot introduced me to the Moonwatch 15 years ago...and the desire for a Moonwatch has been growing ever since. I was going to wait until I upgraded to Captain at Delta Air Lines to get a Moonwatch...then Omega came out with the Moonwatch presentation box with all the really cool accessories...AND I just couldn't take it anymore...'Lionel Train Set Syndrome' hit me...the Moonwatch is the locomotive, the straps, loupe, spring bar tool, extra spring bars, paper weight, manuals, cards/card wallet and historical book are the freight cars/track/transformer...AND the box inside the box inside the box (sleeve) is the train set box! It's just too freaking nutty...I just turned 51 and I feel like I'm 8 again.

 

I had no idea all that cool stuff came with the watch! I've already hinted to Mrs.Jones that the Moonwatch would be a terriffic gift for a decade-mark birthday of mine that's coming in a couple of years. The question is, how am I going to bear waiting that long?

I love this story, @MadDog! As you found with your fabulous Moonwatch, sometimes you just have to Upgrade yourself

 

The Omega Moonwatch with presentation box is the 'Lionel Train Set' of watches! I was lucky that Mrs. Mad Dog (as well as Mad Dog kid units #1 and #2) gave me the Moonwatch for my recent 51st birthday...prior to Captain upgrade at Delta. You DO NOT have to wait...I claimed 'Lionel Train Set Insanity' and it worked...you should try that method as well! Just DO IT!

 

...and then there are all the crazy new Omega NATO straps available...



...which is JUST LIKE buying additional really cool Lionel flat cars with Lionel/Ertl die-cast Navy UH-1 helicopters! It's so insane (and FUN) @Jones in LA!

 

My watch is a 1969 Seamaster 'Sparkle'

I received it when my father passed away in 2001.
My father was a Middle School Biology teacher, and an Army Vet from the Korean War. On a teachers salary we were able to live in the best suburb of Columbus Ohio, and raise three boys. We never wanted for anything.
He always taught me that when you buy something, buy the best, that it would last. When he needed a watch, he bought a Seamaster.
It still works great.
Today I'm wearing it while my girls make me pancakes for Fathers Day ( yes those are pancakes).



Hopefully, I'll have a grandson someday ( as my girls are 13 and 16 no time soon), and I can pass it along to him. Along with many others.

Happy Fathers Day to my dad, and all of the fathers out there!

 

I have many watches that have stories......mostly pocket watches.

The pictured watch is an 18-size, 19-jewel Elgin B W Raymond from my wife's side of the family. If belonged to her great grandfather. He was a sergeant in the Union Army during the civil war. After he mustered out, he was a sheriff in Paducah County, Kentucky. After he married, he moved to Kansas where he farmed. After the children arrived, his wife was worried about tornadoes, so they sold out and moved to Washington Territory where he bought a farm near present day Spangle, Washington, south of Spokane. Once settled, he established a store for hardware and general merchandise in Spangle. In 1903 he bought himself a watch.
The one you see pictured is from the second run of this grade. Why he chose that dial is something I have often wondered.

 

Wonderful story . Happy Fathers Day!

 

It must be very satisfying having a tangible link like this watch to your family's past. It's quite a remarkable looking piece!

 

Hi had my son (first born) 3 months ago and decided to buy him a present -- that I will wear for the next 18 years or so

 

The picture included is of a private label Omega, likely from the late 1920s. The Art Deco case is quite unusual in that it is fitted with a case back that is ornately embossed in an Art Deco theme. It is not a family watch. It came up at a local auction about 5 years ago. The dial reads Murphy's Saskatoon (Saskatchewan, Canada). Why did I buy it you might ask? I bought it because my late father worked for that jeweller from 1924 to 1940! He may have sold it, or worked on it, or otherwise might have know the watch were he still alive.

 

I've shown the watch before and I think I've told it's story but as it's Fathers Day it deserves another outing......

This was bought for my father in 1930 for his 18th birthday and handed down to me when he passed away in 1980.

It was bought by his parents for him instead of paying the rent on their house for a month and he always told the story that when the rent man came calling for that months rent they all had to lay on the floor so they couldn't be seen through the windows, until he left.........

His family never had much so it was have been a struggle to afford this even though I guess it wouldn't have been an expensive make. He wore it through the 2nd world war and areas of the case were so worn they have been filled inside with lead, my watchmaker has serviced it recently and it's still going strong.

It's was my first proper watch and it means a lot to me..........

Happy Fathers Day Dad.........

 

Pardon the poor picture. This is a 9 karat gold, private label Tavannes (Cyma) for the distinguished London jeweller, J W Benson. This watch was presented to the original owner, new, in 1933. When his eldest son decided to emigrate to Canada circa 1960, this watch was presented to him by his father, as a memento. Circa 1985, the original owner's son was presented with a new Rolex Oyster Date, steel and 18 karat yellow gold. He asked his son (the third generation) if he wanted the watch. He declined. His son was the owner of a high tech Rado, and he was not interested in this watch. So the watch was given to me, along with an Accutron 214.

The fellow who gave it to me told the story of their Samoyed dog that had a great liking for a particular toffee candy that was wrapped in gold foil. There was usually a dish of them on a coffee table, and the dog would help himself! One day, the Tavannes was on the coffee table, and the dog helped himself! Needless to say it came to me with no crystal, and deep tooth marks on the 9 karat case back! It was a lot of work, but I quite like it.

 

One of the best Watch Stories ever! Thanks for sharing this

 

Almost all of my "collection" are pocket watches ranging from 55 to 120 yrs. old. I'm sure there are great stories there I just wish I knew some of them.

 

I love this thread....

 

Also love this thread. On the assumption this is more about the story than the watch, here's mine. Its a long one....

For the five years before buying the Speedmaster in my avatar I wore a smart, stainless dive computer as my everyday watch. I was doing a lot of diving at the time (I'm a Master Instructor), it told the time as well and it made sense. After several thousand dives with it I found myself on a small speedboat bouncing my way out to Elphinstone, easily one of the best reef dives in the world. It's a challenging dive with strong currents and a sea bottom at about 90m, and most of the local dive operators won't take you unless you have 50 dives under your belt. My wife fancied a lie in so she had stayed at the hotel, I was paired up with Ralf, a genuinely lovely german I'd not met before. As I chatted to the local dive guide I noticed that three of the divers were struggling to assemble their kit. The guide explained that this particular nationality is famous for forged diving log books and the chances were these guys were novices. There is nothing they can do when presented with a full log book. We arrived at the dive site, rolled in off the sides of the boat and quickly dropped to around 40m at the nose of the reef. I'd done this dive before - it's spectacular with lots of big fish fighting the current at the point where the reef splits the sea in two. Almost as soon as we hit 42 meters, however, two of the 'novice' divers had an uncontrolled buoyant ascent. Dangerous for them, but also dangerous for the guide who had to follow them up quickly. I could see the resignation in his body language as he took off after them.

Basically, that then left me in charge. I did a quick head count, and came up one short. Tried again, still short. By a process of elimination I worked out it was the other 'novice'. There was only one place he could be. I looked down. Just on the edge of visibility and disappearing into the black, I could see this guy. Clearly suffering from Nitrogen Narcosis (it's like being drunk underwater) he was still dropping and had no idea where he was or what he should be doing. I estimated he was at 50m. I firmly told Ralf to stay where he was and dumped all the air I could to follow him down.

As I dropped head first and finning strongly to catch up I had my right wrist held by my left hand so I could see how deep I was. I started to work out how deep I was prepared to go before I would call it off to protect myself. I had a single aluminium 10l cylinder and I hadn't started with a brilliant fill of air - as soon as you drop below 40m you are basically decompression diving which means you have to do stops on the way back up to the service or you get the bends. How much stops could I do with the air I had left? How much stop time would I rack up bringing the guy up? What would a 'drunk' diver do when I grabbed hold of him?

60m. I decided that was the limit. If I didn't catch him by then I'd let him go. As I dropped I watched each meter tick by on the dive computer. If I didn't catch him, he'd be dead in minutes (and even if he did come to his senses he wouldn't have the stop time or the control to come to the surface and stay alive) but it was his own idiot fault and I was seriously putting myself at risk. At 60m I was no where near him - he was still dropping fast; but I knew I couldn't just turn around. I carried on chasing him, telling myself that every five meters was it, I would pull out and leave him. Every meter I watched the dive computer and asked myself what I was doing.

Eventually I caught him at 72m and had arrested our descent by 74m. I had dropped in behind him and had wrapped my legs around him while using his buoyancy jacket to control us. There was no reaction from him whatever. I took us up to 40m as quickly as I safely could - by the time we got there he was working his way through his air safety reserve. There, I met the guide whose eyes nearly popped out of his head as I quickly updated him with sign language. He grabbed my passenger, took him slowly back up to the surface using the guides spare regulator so they could both breathe off the guides tank.

I then carried on with my planned dive with Ralf - the rest of the group had been waiting to see which part of the disaster movie turned out the worst. I brought us up to 18m and did most of the rest of the dive carefully maintaining the right depths to clear my stops. By the time we surfaced I was on fumes myself.

We got into the boat; the dive guide told me the three 'novices' were banned from diving for the rest of their holiday. They refused to make eye contact for the 40 minute journey back with anyone on the boat and when we arrived left without a word to anyone. Since then (probably six/seven years) even now, every time I look at that dive computer on my wrist I think about that dive, plummeting, those numbers ticking up and how we do stuff when we know its stupid because its the right thing to do.

 

@Mothra -- a watch is just a thing. It's the story behind the watch that can be most appealing.

Your story is gripping, to say the least! In light of your story and mine, I should probably say to anyone considering sharing a story here that extreme danger is NOT a requisite element of the story

Non-divers probably cannot appreciate the implications of going to 74m depth on a "recreational" dive. The established safe maximum depth for recreational divers is 40m, and even at 40m, one can only spend about 9 minutes at that depth before having to either move to a shallower depth or be prepared to go through a rigorous decompression sequence on the way back to the surface. Without doubt, the guy you went after owes you his life.

Sometime in the future I plan on starting a thread on this forum titled "Photos of diving watches used while...Gasp!...Diving!" It will be fun to find out who some of the divers are among the Forum members. By the way, my little TagHeuer pictured above has been used many times as a backup to my dive computer and has made it to 40m on a couple of occasions on the backwall of the Molokini Crater off the island of Maui, Hawaii.

 

Great story @Mothra. As a diver with a professional cert, you had me thinking about how I would handle the situation. I've had to step in and help manage dives when things got complicated, but luckily, neither while working nor diving recreationally, have I had such a rescue scenario.

Also interesting was the bit about forged logs. Someone doing that clearly wouldn't understand his own limitations. A real danger to self and others.

 

While reading about your diving adventure, I couldn't help but to recall the story that was all over the news recently, about one sky diver rescuing another whose 'chute hadn't opened! They landed together on the one 'chute, in the ocean, and nobody was hurt! I prefer terra firma. The more firma, the less terra!

In 2012, we took a 2-week tour of Italy, including a small tour boat from Sorrento to the island of Capri. Awe inspiring to say the least! And that was without submerging (thank Heaven, as I am not a swimmer). I can only imagine how beautiful it would be, diving in that beautiful ocean.