It started early for me. I’ve always been a scavenger of one sort or another.

I remember hooking my toy farm wagon to my pedal tractor and driving around the block picking “things” up from the street, or even gutter.

This was trash to most folks, but for a junior prospector like me, there were treasures to be found.

But this may have been my greatest scavenge of all time.

There it was, off to the side of a dirt road between the Plains hospital and Plains High School.

And this time, I was in my late 60s, not four years old.

Sitting in a small valley occupied mostly by weeds, was an object that caused a double-take.

Monkey bars. Ancient history to some, sports history to me.

Not the fancy-schmancy, brightly colored outdoor gym sets of today. No, this was the real McCoy.

Real metal bars, bolted together to form a geodesic dome structure. A staple of school and park playgrounds for decades, from decades gone by.

It had the look of a discarded object. It almost radiated a sad vibe as I stopped to make sure that it was actually a monkey bar set.

Instantly, images of Eddie Newlin and his brother Fergie, two friends from the neighborhood who attended the same elementary school I did in Billings, popped into my mind.

I could hear the squeals of laughter from the throng of kids scrambling to reach the top of the dome. Some stopped along the way to wrap their legs around one of the horizontal bars and hang upside down.

Others displayed their ability to scoot around the perimeter of the “bars,” shuffling from one square to another without touching the ground.

Monkey bars. The most cherished school playground set of its day. No longer polished and shiny but structurally sound nonetheless.

Sitting there, slowly being overtaken by weeds, its fate unknown.

For me, this was a no-brainer. Something had to be done, someone like me had to step forward and save this ghost of recesses past.

I surmised that monkey bars were placed there by school workers, given the fact a new playground had been installed behind Plains elementary school thanks to the efforts of recently retired Superintendent and long-time teacher Thom Chisholm and friends.

And I was right.

Chisholm was the man to see. When I told him I wanted to rescue the contraption, he did not seem puzzled as to why a grown man wanted an old set of Monkey bars.

“If you can pick it up and load it onto something big enough to move it, it’s yours,” he said. “Let me know if you need help”.

I suspect Chisholm also recognized the historic and nostalgic value of the outdoor gym. But in these days when safety reigns supreme, an all-metal Monkey bars set had to go.

Fast forward to this past week. I was having a cold one at the Legion Club in Paradise, looking out the window at the roadside park across the street. There was some playground equipment there, but none like in the good old days.

My mind flashed to the scene of the deserted metal dome in the weed-choked pit. I struck up a conversation with my friend, Danny Risland, a longtime area resident and former monkey bar user from Paradise.

We both agreed that despite the bad rap with which the metal bars had been labeled, a safety concern, neither of us could recall anyone being injured scrambling around the monkey set.

I knew Risland owned a 1970, 2 1/2 ton military style truck with a boom on the back and the plan grew. I asked Risland if he would be interested in using his truck to rescue the bars from the weed pit and he agreed without hesitation.

The plan was to bring the set to the park in Paradise.

So, this past Sunday, Risland and I did just that. Using the boom on the truck, we lifted the set out of the weeds and lashed it to the bed of the truck.

It now sits in the park across the street from the Paradise Legion Club, a tribute to years gone by. Other than some gas for Risland’s rig, the park’s playground got a legendary toy from the past ... for free.

When asked if the offer to remove the set and put it back in service was still good, Chisholm had a three-word reply. ”Git er done”.

The monkey bars will need to be set firmly in the ground.

But it has already been “explored” by curious youngsters.

There will be some who make it to the top of the dome.

And, no doubt, some who are content to hang upside down.

Someday, when no one is looking, I have a feeling a large, 69-year-old man may be seen among the metal bars too.