Saturday morning I was out the door early and off to the the flea market(s). It was slightly chilly out. Decided to hit the tiny outdoor flea first, hoping to catch some good deals. Half way there, a light drizzle started. Oh no! Arrived to see a few cars zipping away and but one lone vendor frantically packing up!
I decided to head over to the other small outdoor flea. Figured there had to be a lot going on there as it’s the better of the two. One vendor in the parking lot! Probably the only person with a tent. Seemed he had nothing much so I didn’t get out of the car.
I parked way off and started scrolling for estate sales. The couple i liked the look of were too far as I had to be home in a couple hours. In fact, there were no close estate sales. Not many garage sales due to cold this week.
Surprisingly on CL I see a Trash & Treasure sale at one of them there “old people colonies” aka country club a few miles away. Hmmm, perfect! My last hope. Could be really lame, but it was my only option for the day.
Well, I drove up shortly after the 8am opening time, and it was a madhouse! Volunteers directing traffic and nowhere to park. People all around were leaving with bags and arms full of stuff.
Well, I made my way into the room of books, the room of fine china, and finally to the main event room. It was mobbed! I think every white head of hair in town had to be there. I was definitely one of the youngest attendees.
The place was full of tables or stations. First one I see said tools. Sweet! Well, there was stuff. Fishing, hardware. Only one big bin of hand tools, and some old guy had dropped anchor there. Hand tools were 50 cents each. He bought just about every single hand tool, mostly pliers,leaving just a few screwdrivers and misc. items. He def filled a bag. I walked around the table and waited my turn. Didn’t look like I missed anything great. Finally he stepped away and I moved on in. I pulled out a pair of dikes and the guy came right back and said “I’d buy them.” “I’ll take them if you don’t”. I didn’t see a name but they were quality. I told the guy I didn’t need them, he could have them. He said he needed them. Guy was likely in his 80’s.

Maybe new in town and and needed tools

I sure didn’t need them.
He did leave one interesting thing in the bin that I almost missed too. It blended in with the big stuff. A little 2” aluminum vise. No name or markings whatsoever. The man running the tool table seemed a little pushy and eager to sell everything. However, for 50 cents it was mine. I see the same exact vise on ebay, no markings.
Then it was on to the rest of the room. Most tables were manned by….two or three nice little old ladies. Some were a little pushier than others. The prices of everything in the room was amazingly cheap, and mostly usable donated stuff, hence all the people leaving with piles when I arrived. Any way, I walked around a bit and found a few more goodies.
Lego set $1, vise .50, headphones $1, half full 3in1 shorty oil can .25 , small Androck kitchen grinder .50, yellow enameled cast iron pan- no markings $3.
I picked up the grinder and this little old lady (shopper) tells me it’s an antique and she has one just like it. I asked her if it was for coffee and she told me it’s for nuts. Sundaes then, i said. It’s always nice to learn from the older generation. Pretty much how I learned about tools.
The pan was funny. I looked at it twice. Three women behind the tabl. Ended up talking to one of the ladies behind about it who schooled me on cast iron cleaning. I didn’t buy it, the price was right, but I was still shopping. I went back to it a third time to check it out, and another old lady with a name tag on pops up next to me and tells me I can give her the money. She asks how much and I tell her $4. She says “Just give me 3. These other ones here don’t want to deal!”.

I paid her and by the time I turn around the other lady I had spoken to was whispering in the ear of a third woman about her. I could tell there was some beef between them. Some catty drama. I wasn’t surprised. I mean after all, this place, although disguised as a country club, seemed more like a glorified trailer park with new double and triple wides, and I assume everyone still in everyone’s business.
After buying the small oil can for 25 cents that had been bundled as part of some craft stuff at another table, I made my way out of the crowd and relinquished my parking spot to another happy shopper.


