Garage sales are not going to be my route to an early retirement, or any retirement for that matter.

But they sure are an interesting way to meet the people I live among.

Some of these items are no longer available, others will be sold post-garage sale. (Image: Kathryn Reed(

Last Saturday my neighborhood put together a garage sale for anyone who wanted to participate. One would think after only three years here that I probably wouldn’t have much to get rid. And I didn’t have much, but enough to make it worth my time.

Mom and I each came with a vacuum. Why keep two? Well, we still have two. I’ll try to find another way to unload it. Same with a few other things. The thrift store is where other things will end up.

The most popular items I had on the driveway were two Jerry cans. They went with me on my first trip to Baja because the Jeep didn’t get good gas mileage and I was told about a couple stretches that might not have gas.

Because gas stations were plentiful on all of my trips I never needed the cans. I can’t imagine needing them going forward. Of course I probably just jinxed myself.

So many people looked at them and liked them. They told me the price was very reasonable. I learned California has new rules about what new Jerry cans must have that don’t make sense—at least according to the shoppers.

They liked their look and function, including the venting ability.

After all of the lookie-loos, I am still in possession of two Jerry cans. There must be a buyer out there somewhere.

The suitcase was another popular item. I bought this recently from a friend sight unseen. With it being smaller than my current one, I tried to recoup my money and get rid of a duplicate item I don’t need. No luck. Again, I’m sure there is a buyer out there.

One lady zipped it up, spun it around and asked the price. My answer didn’t satisfy her. I asked what she would like to pay for it. She said she has enough suitcases so she wasn’t buying. I just shook my head. What the hell? Why touch it? Why engage me?

As has been the case with every garage sale I’ve ever had, people come before I’m set up. Start time was to be 8am. People were by about 7:45am; maybe earlier and I didn’t see them.

Then there are the drive-bys—the ones who cruise by slowly without stopping. They must want something in particular they can tell from the car window that I don’t have.

Even though I didn’t get rid of all that I wanted to, I will soon—one way or another. It never hurts to go through things to see what you no longer wear, or use, or don’t care about. That mission was accomplished.

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