Until they removed the winter's accumulation of sand from the road in front of my house, riding my bike was a study in skinned knees, bruised foreheads, and unspeakable introductions of my groin to the crossbar. So I've changed my reference point to something a little more user-friendly. My friends scoff at my garage sale fixation. They think that garage sales are just cheesy opportunities for people to foist their junk on a public obsessed with the urge to hoard. But garage sales are so much more than that.
Garage sales prove that summer is a time of transformation.
Muscle cars resurface. My friend John stops gritting his teeth. And people who spend 364 days of the year being shy and reserved suddenly decide to drag some very telling junk from the depths of their closets and display it to total strangers on their lawn. Garage sales are a window on the soul of a household. That's why I stop for them.