I was driving along route 66 west in an area that had few homes visible from the highway when I saw a garage sale sign on a telephone pole. I had been driving for hours and needed to stretch my legs, so I turned off the highway and went zig zagging down a country rock road. The sign did not say how far down the road it would be, but I figured it wouldn't be too far or no one would go a long way to the sale. I had driven close to 6 miles and started to think the sale may have ended when I saw an old mobile home with a yard full of junk and I figured this had to be it, so I turned in and drove the last 100 feet to where the junk started and I climbed out of the car. It felt good to stand up and stretch my legs. The old coon hound by the porch looked up and promptly dropped his head and closed his eyes again. The junk in the yard looked like it had been in the sun for a long time. There was an old Chevy truck and an old Impala by the garage that looked like they hadn't been on the road for decades and a beat up Jeep by the porch that looked to be the main transportation for the owner.
My good feeling being out of the car and standing up did not last for long when this bearded behemoth with scraggly looking hair and missing a few teeth stepped out on the porch as he cocked a Remington 12 Gage. "What you doin' on my property boy?"
"A, just stopping to check out your garage sale," I replied.
"This ain't no garage sale boy. You sayin' my stuff is junk?"
"No sir, I saw a sign for a garage sale and thought this was the place."
"You some kind a agent or a cop?"
"No sir."
"Don't lie ta me boy! I'n not likin' your looks. You look like some kinda a cop ta me."
"No sir, I'm just going to get back in my car and be on my way."
"You stand where you are or you'll fall right where you take your first step. If theys a cop or a federal car comes in this drive in the next minutes you'll be the first I drop, this ain't no bird shot in this gage."
I stood like a statue, except for the knees shaking, for another 10 minutes (that seemed like an hour) praying no other car even drove by the place. I supposed he had not already shot me because he did not want to have to dispose of the body, or maybe I would be his hostage if some sheriff car happened by us.
Finally he gave me a look that was even more menacing than the initial one. He then said, "you get your ass outa here and if I sees you again, I'm not talkin' just shootin."
I said, "you'll never see me again sir," as I got in the car and tried to start it. The old battery was cranking the engine really slow and I thought oh shit, I don't want to have to ask him for a jump start. The battery seemed to be on its last legs when the engine finally kicked and fired up. I revved the motor, threw the car into reverse and hit the gas pedal. Rocks were flying and bouncing off the under carriage as I raced backwards to the main rock road. I barely had it stopped before I slid off the main road; I slapped it into drive, pressed the petal to the metal and flung rocks and a huge cloud of dust in my wake.
That's the last time I ever went to a garage sale on any country road.
My good feeling being out of the car and standing up did not last for long when this bearded behemoth with scraggly looking hair and missing a few teeth stepped out on the porch as he cocked a Remington 12 Gage. "What you doin' on my property boy?"
"A, just stopping to check out your garage sale," I replied.
"This ain't no garage sale boy. You sayin' my stuff is junk?"
"No sir, I saw a sign for a garage sale and thought this was the place."
"You some kind a agent or a cop?"
"No sir."
"Don't lie ta me boy! I'n not likin' your looks. You look like some kinda a cop ta me."
"No sir, I'm just going to get back in my car and be on my way."
"You stand where you are or you'll fall right where you take your first step. If theys a cop or a federal car comes in this drive in the next minutes you'll be the first I drop, this ain't no bird shot in this gage."
I stood like a statue, except for the knees shaking, for another 10 minutes (that seemed like an hour) praying no other car even drove by the place. I supposed he had not already shot me because he did not want to have to dispose of the body, or maybe I would be his hostage if some sheriff car happened by us.
Finally he gave me a look that was even more menacing than the initial one. He then said, "you get your ass outa here and if I sees you again, I'm not talkin' just shootin."
I said, "you'll never see me again sir," as I got in the car and tried to start it. The old battery was cranking the engine really slow and I thought oh shit, I don't want to have to ask him for a jump start. The battery seemed to be on its last legs when the engine finally kicked and fired up. I revved the motor, threw the car into reverse and hit the gas pedal. Rocks were flying and bouncing off the under carriage as I raced backwards to the main rock road. I barely had it stopped before I slid off the main road; I slapped it into drive, pressed the petal to the metal and flung rocks and a huge cloud of dust in my wake.
That's the last time I ever went to a garage sale on any country road.
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