Yard Sale Marathon

The Axels were on the lookout for funky and charming pieces to decorate their family room as a teen haven for their 14-year-old daughter and 9-year-old son, plus vases, yard ornaments (Diane says, "Shouldn't everyone have a garden gnome?"), and quilts. But that isn't all. "If I could come home with one thing and be happy," Diane said--not knowing such a thing is impossible at this sale--it would be already-broken-in "cowboy boots! I want pretty, girl-cowboy boots to wear to the Boot Scootin' Saloon!"

- If you see it and you want it--and it will fit in your car--buy it!
- Get there early--second chances are rare at yard sales.
- Haggle, haggle, haggle! Never pay the marked price.

At the next two stops Vernelle and I learned a yard-sale lesson of our own. Vernelle found a couple of cake pans that she wanted--she's sweet like that, always giving her friends baked goods--but the vendor wanted $8 for the pair. That was a little more than Vernelle was willing to pay, so we passed and moseyed on to the next sale. As we walked away, the vendor 'called' out to us that we'd not find those for any better price than that! Sassy as ever, Vernelle called back that maybe not, but she'd sure try...and at our very next stop, she did! She got nine--yes, nine cake pans, including a wedding-cake graduated set--for the same $8 the man up the road wanted for just two plain round pans. (She had a similar experience with a vintage fan, too--we saw so many at the sale this year, but she held out for the right price--and the one with the right price just happened to be the color she wanted AND the brand name market on the front of the fan was an old family name. Serendipity!)

After Russell Springs, Vernelle and I decided to take a break from shopping and just get some miles out of the way. Our reservations that night were way down in Lookout Mountain, Ga., and we weren't even in Tennessee yet! Plus, our favorite sale for the past three years was waiting on us a quite a way down the road in Jamestown, Tenn., so we made a bee line for the state line. It was nearly dark when we got to Jamestown, but several sales were still going strong with lights set up. We were pleased to learn about the night shopping opportunities as we had never been shopping there past 5 or 6 in the evening and were usually on our way back home by then.

Even though it was late, the lights encouraged our hopes that our favorite shopping spot would still be doing business--until we reached the place where we loved to shop the most and found a for sale sign on the property. The old gray farmhouse that had been an antique store was closed, as was the Coca-Cola café in the back where we always had lunch after a long but worth-it wait for a seat. The pink farmhouse also on the property was dark, and the rows and rows of sale tents that usually surrounded it were nowhere to be found. We were devastated; I especially was because my favorite buys always came from this spot. Every year I'd treat myself to a piece or two of the most exquisite vintage linens from Belgium that a dealer from Texas sold there, and now I don't know where her booth is. If anyone knows where to find her now, do let me know!

By the time we were over that shock, it was truly dark, and we had a few hours to go yet. Tired and hungry at 9 p.m., we stopped in Pikeville to gas up the yard-sale-mobile and asked the lady at the store if there was anywhere nearby that we could have dinner. She quickly mentioned the Pikeville Family Restaurant and picked up the phone to call them. Turns out they weren't exactly still open but they invited us to come on down there for dinner. We hated to impose so late, but our options were considerably limited at that hour, so we went; and boy, were we glad!

Before we were even parked, we saw a few members of the family waving to us real friendly like to come on in. When we did, we were greeted as if we, too, were family; they brought us drinks and menus right away, and in no time at all we both had the freshest little side salads we'd ever eaten. We were thankfully munching down every bite when our dinners arrived, and they, too, were yummy. We left full and happy with a whole new family of friends and a promise to stop there the next day for lunch on our way back through toward home.

We spent that night at the Chanticleer Inn in Lookout Mountain, Ga., in the most comfortable beds known to man. It was like sleeping in a marshmallow--feather duvets, feather beds, feather pillows, and the softest crisp white linens. The fog on the mountain and the odd street-sign system thereabouts gave us a bit of a fit before we finally got there, but those fluffy beds were worth every minute of it.

While a few favorite places weren't there this year and we still wonder what bargains await at the sales from Chattanooga south into Alabama, Vernelle and I are proud of our yard sale marathon success this year and are already looking forward to next year's sale.