I am lucky that my husband, Ron, in all of these endeavors, is supportive of my endeavors and will help me repair, clean, touch up, pack up, and unpack at the drop of a ball. He has also learned to brake and turn sharply when I shout out, “TURN! There is a yard sale down there!”
Recently, on an outing to visit friends in Silverton, I spotted such a sign. Ron braked hard turned into a nearby fruit stand (where we stopped and to buy some great berries, peaches and corn) and then headed down a long, narrow country road. Following the signs we winded our way down a long gravel driveway. In the back of the property was a double-wide trailer (bigger than my Grandparents had- see earlier blog) and a small house with broken windows, the yard contained several tables filled with sale items.
Ron suggested that I get out and explore first, as if I were not initially murdered, he would them get out of the car and follow along. I opened my door to be greeted by an inquisitive Chihuahua (not a pit bull as Ron had predicted I might find). A white bearded, bald, tooth-missing, short man wearing camouflage pants and a hunting vest trailed the dog (whose name I learned was Gordon). The man greeted me warmly and continued to make friendly banter while I admired his collection of items for sale: poker chips, an electric menorah, telescope, vintage liquor flasks, and a full on - waiting for a naked baby –bear skin rug. He truly had one of the most diverse and interesting assortments of items I have found at a yard sale to date. Ron wandered into the yard and was also greeted by the man, who introduced himself as Dave. Ron began admiring his stuff as well and the two of them were quickly engrossed in a discussion of old engine parts. Dave took a liking to Ron and invited him into his “man cave”- the house/shack with all the broken windows. I couldn’t stand being left behind and so I headed in as well, stepping carefully over the broken steps and missing floorboards.
Although the interior had a musty smell, and was definitely ram shackled- the array of carefully arranged collections was amazing. Kitchen items in one area, a glass shelf of bobble-head dolls, a collection of vintage weapons, old pop bottles, and an area for space alien stuff. It was hard to take it all in, but we loved it and loved talking to Dave, meeting his dog, cat and the neighbor boy that wandered over to say hello. Dave loved his stuff and loved collecting- something we had in common. Despite outward appearances, I felt that I had met a kindred spirit in Dave, and as we pulled out of his gavel driveway, waving good-bye- I admit I felt a little envious of Dave and his outright joy for life and collecting.