The Watchmaker’s Legacy: When Elon Musk Was Told He Couldn’t Afford a Watch

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone streets of Geneva as Elon Musk, dressed in a plain black t-shirt and worn jeans, slipped away from his security detail for a rare moment alone. Tired from endless SpaceX meetings, he wandered the winding lanes of Old Town, seeking a brief escape from the weight of rocket launches and engineering plans.

.

.

.

He paused outside a small shop, its window display a miniature solar system encircling exquisite watches. The sign above read: Torbyon Timepieces. Elon’s curiosity was piqued. He pushed open the heavy wooden door, setting off a bell that chimed through the air like a memory from a simpler time.

Inside, the shop was a haven of tradition. Glass cases lined the walls, each displaying masterful works of horology. The air smelled of polished wood and leather, and soft classical music floated from hidden speakers. Behind the counter stood Marcus Bowfort, a craftsman in his fifties with salt-and-pepper hair, round glasses, and a vest over a crisp white shirt. He greeted Elon with a polite smile.

“Good afternoon, sir. Welcome to Torbyon Timepieces. How may I assist you today?”

“Just browsing,” Elon replied, his eyes drawn to the space-themed display. “You have an interesting collection in the window.”

Marcus’s practiced eye took in Elon’s casual attire. He’d seen many tourists wander in, rarely expecting them to buy. Still, he was courteous, showing Elon the “space collection”—watches inspired by humanity’s adventures beyond Earth.

One piece caught Elon’s attention: a deep blue-faced watch with specks that glittered like stars.

“That’s our Omega Speedmaster Lunar Dust Limited Edition,” Marcus explained, unlocking the case. “It contains actual moon dust, authenticated from Apollo mission space suits. Only fifty exist in the world.”

Elon’s eyes widened. “May I?”

Marcus hesitated. The watch was worth $175,000. But something in Elon’s genuine interest made him relent.

“Carefully, please.”

Elon cradled the watch, examining the transparent back, marveling at the intricate movement. “Beautiful engineering. The balance wheel is unlike any I’ve seen before.”

Marcus was surprised by the technical comment, but remained reserved. “It’s our special low-gravity balance system. Inspired by watches for space, though more advanced than anything that’s actually flown.”

“How much?” Elon asked.

Marcus cleared his throat. “$175,000.”

Elon nodded, unfazed. Marcus, however, prepared to gently steer him toward more affordable options. “It’s a remarkable piece, but perhaps I could show you something more appropriate for your budget?”

A flash of amusement crossed Elon’s face. Instead of taking offense, he smiled and handed back the watch. “You may be right. But I’d love to learn more about your collection, especially the space-related pieces.”

Relieved but slightly guilty, Marcus began sharing stories—about watches that had orbited Earth, about his grandfather who founded the shop in 1886, about family traditions and the artistry of watchmaking. As they spoke, the two men discovered a shared passion for engineering, legacy, and dreams of Mars.

Elon listened as Marcus revealed sketches for a theoretical “Mars Watch”—a dual-dial timepiece designed to track both Earth and Martian time, crafted from space-grade materials to withstand the red planet’s harsh environment. Elon was captivated.

“What if you could build it for real?” he asked.

Marcus laughed, thinking it a fantasy. But Elon’s eyes sparkled with conviction. “I’m serious. SpaceX will need timekeepers for Mars. We need someone who understands both tradition and innovation. Would you consider working with us to develop it?”

Marcus was stunned. He’d spent his life preserving a centuries-old craft, never imagining it might one day reach another planet. He hesitated, thinking of his family, his shop, his son who had chosen computers over watchmaking.

That evening, over dinner, Marcus shared the story with his wife, Sophia. She encouraged him to see the opportunity not as an abandonment of tradition, but as its ultimate evolution—combining the old with the new, bridging generations and worlds. Even his son, Thomas, was swept up by the idea, eager to help blend mechanical artistry with cutting-edge technology.

Six months later, Marcus stood at a workbench inside SpaceX’s California facility, assembling the first prototype Mars Timekeeper. His son worked beside him, using computer modeling to refine the design. The project brought the family closer than they’d been in years, their worlds finally overlapping.

The Mars watches passed grueling NASA tests—surviving Martian dust, temperature extremes, and radiation. The Bowfort name, once known only to a few connoisseurs, became legendary as the official timekeeper for humanity’s first interplanetary mission.

At the Kennedy Space Center, Marcus unveiled the Mars Timekeeper Collection to the world. Astronauts, engineers, and journalists marveled at the union of tradition and innovation. Elon joined him on stage, revealing that their families had been connected decades earlier—Marcus’s grandfather had once helped Elon’s grandfather, believing in his dreams when others would not.

As the first humans launched for Mars, wearing Bowfort watches on their wrists, Marcus watched with pride and wonder. His family’s legacy—born in a tiny Geneva shop—was now marking time on another world.

And all because, one ordinary afternoon, a man in jeans and a t-shirt had been told he couldn’t afford a watch.

If you enjoyed this story, please share it with friends and family who appreciate tales of kindness, tradition, and the unexpected connections that shape our futures. Sometimes, the smallest moments spark the greatest adventures.