Yard Sale Marathon

My yard sale friend Vernelle and I had been in 'training' for three years, shopping the same 50 miles or so of "The Sale," all the while casting dreamy glances northward and wondering what treasures await up the road a piece. Finally, the time had come to find out; we were doing nearly the entire sale — three states and more than 350 miles of bargain hunting — in just three days.

Thursday: Covington, Ky., to Harrodsburg, Ky.
When the sun rose Thursday morning, we began our journey in an SUV packed with all the necessities: a measuring tape, a map, road-trip CDs, sunscreen, and a cooler full of lemonade. Armed with a little bit of money and a whole lot of hope, we were ready for our yard sale marathon.

Jenni and Bill Woodruff, Innkeepers, at the Wallace House B & B in Covington, Ky.

We'd just spent a wonderfully comfortable night at the Wallace House Bed & Breakfast in Covington, Ky., a charming town at the northern end of the sale and just across the river from Cincinnati. Innkeepers Jenni and Bill Woodruff couldn't have been more hospitable, and our stay couldn't have been more comfortable. (Ask for the Holmes Room — it has the loveliest, most spacious bathroom I've ever seen, with a decadent clawfoot tub and shower bigger than most closets). To prepare for the task ahead, we had a delicious hearty breakfast — no wimpy fruit and bagels there — and chatted about the sale with Jenni and Bill as well as the other inn guests, Diane and Michael Axel, who were first-timers at the yard sale.

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!"

A string of traffic along the Highway 127 sale route is usually an indicator of a good bunch of sales.

Vernelle and I said goodbye to our new friends the Axels and the Woodruffs and headed to Highway 127. After passing through Florence, civilization started to grow thin and our excitement grew stronger. Then there it was — our first traffic jam. A string of cars along this highway is usually a good indicator of a big field or barn sale. We drove up the hill like a roller coaster inching up the track, cresting over the ridge until we could see it stretched out in front of us — more traffic. What we thought was surely going to be a traffic-stopping frenzy around a fabulous sale was just a road construction crew.

My shopping friend Dana "Vernelle" and the alien-eyed bubble-blowing sailor octopus.

A few minutes later our path finally cleared, and soon we reached our first stop: two large community baseball parks near Verona, Ky., hosting tent after tent of bargain bliss. We quickly pulled off the road and made the rounds. Ever thoughtful, Vernelle quickly spied something she knew that her bubble-blowing friend (me) would love — an alien-eyed sailor octopus that blows bubbles by battery power.

You really can find everything at the sale!

A few booths down we found the ever-elusive Prince Albert in a can, and then a deal it really hurt me to leave behind: a big beige leather-ish chair that had seen better days, but with pretty carved wooden feet and a lovely arched back. I've never reupholstered furniture and was hesitant to buy something that large so early in the trip — but the price tag kept beckoning to me; the chair was only a dollar. I lingered, envisioning myself reading a book in the made-over chair in my living room, until Vernelle grew impatient with me and we were on the road again.

Chef Brown serving up a hotdog right off the grill.

For miles down the road I was still pouting from the loss of a great bargain — until we met Chef Brown selling hotdogs that would "make you want to go bear huntin' with a switch" and beans and corn bread "that'll curl your hair." Vernelle and I had a nibble of each and my hair is still straight — but lunch with Chef Brown was another fun part of the highway 127 experience: yard sale food.

The chef manning the fire at his mobile Rib Shack Blues Cafe near Signal Mountain, Tenn.

At nearly every big sale you'll find something yummy, like burgers grilling right there in someone's yard; a variety of fresh and canned produce and fruits; smoky BBQ ribs that you can smell for miles; or carnival fare like funnel cakes and unusually shaped French fries. At one stop, Vernelle bought us a big overflowing cup of the sweetest little grape tomatoes, still warm from the sun, for $1. We ran to a nearby deli market for a chunk of cheddar cheese to go with them, and had a little Southern picnic snack of cheese, tomatoes and lemonade.

The main building of the lovely and historical Beaumont Inn in Harrodsburg, Ky.

After a long day of shopping and munching through towns with names like Big Bone, Bug and Beaverlick (and spotting peacocks in the middle of the highway near Lawrenceburg, Ky.), we made our way to the lovely and historical Beaumont Inn in Harrodsburg, Ky. We had a delicious family-style dinner in the Inn's restaurant (with the most magnificent corn pudding — the recipe is on their website), and then took a walk to admire the many antiques that adorn the various public rooms of the main Inn.

When the Beaumont Inn was a girls' school in the early 20th century, engaged students autographed their bedroom window panes with their diamond rings.

While the Beaumont has been an inn for several years, managed by the multiple generations of the same family, the buildings of the Inn have also served many years as several different girls' schools. Before bed that night I read in the Inn's history that when the older girls were engaged, they would write their names in the window panes of their bedrooms. Vernelle and I couldn't wait for morning to check out the window panes; a few panes in each of the large windows in our room were autographed by some soon-to-be-wed young lady from the early 1900s.