On our way back from one of our regular trips to visit relatives along the Michigan shore, we found ourselves drawn to quickly pull over, hop out of the van, and paruse piles of stuff along our route. No, we weren’t dumpster diving (although we were tempted to do that at one point, but we didn’t have enough room in the van). The unavoidable, overpowering influence were rummage sale signs on streetcorners and “open” signs in front of antique shops.

1. Sheboygan

When in Sheboygan, we know we have to stop at Georgine’s, a combination thrift-shop and rummage sale that I’ve written about here before. We always do well at Georgine’s, so if we stop anyplace, we stop there. This time, we came away with five boxes of stuff (some of which deserve articles of their own, so you’ll have to wait), one containing some of my favorites: strange records and audio equipment. There weren’t too many new albums since my last visit, so I couldn’t fill a box like I usually do, but I’m still pleased with my record finds. The smallest is a demo record for the 430 Conn Caprice, a home organ with the ability to play numerous instruments, as the narrator will explain in great detail (”you know, when you hear an oboe on the organ, it’s really synthesized from flute sounds?“). In just a dust sleeve is a US Air Force Recruiting Service album, a record composed of lovely orchestral music interspersed with a kindly officer explaining how nurses are highly valued in the Air Force, and should they want to enlist as an officer they should talk to their recruiter. For the geek in me, I grabbed a Blade Runner soundtrack, and for the ‘what the?’ afficianado in me I got Heino’s 1971 album “Die Schonsten Volksleider der Welt”, a collection of national-pride music from several countries, sung in German. Trust me, the guy with the poodles looks nothing like he sounds (”is he trying to sound larger than he really is?” D asks with a confused look on her face). Good stuff all around.

I also had to grab the lovely blue box on the right: it’s an early version of a stereo walkman, although far less portable. The Channel Master Stereo 8 is a portable 8-track player and AM-FM radio that you can carry around with you — conveniently powered by 8 D-size batteries (!) — or plugged in to a nearby AC outlet. I haven’t tested it yet, but — my gosh — it’s too kitschily cool to pass up. It also appears well cared for, the antenna isn’t bent or broken, and the buttons and dials seem to work, so I’ll have to dig out my Jimmy Hendrix 8-tracks and give her a whirl.

After Georgine’s, it’s time to hit the road — but first we gas-up. Destiny and D headed to the ladies’ room and there, in the hallway, was a cardboard candy display. D’s brother-in-law, Garth, loves candy and she decided would make a great gift for him. (What can be better for a giant kid who loves candy than your own two-foot, six-inch cardboard M&M Mars candy display to sit beside his recliner and hold his candy?) D wondered if it’s garbage…She was just waiting for Destiny anyway, so she headed the the cashier and asked if it’s being tossed out.

“Sorry, we have to save that for specials,” the cashier replied.

D smiled and said, “Thanks anyway,” and returned to the back hallway to meet Destiny. After I finished pumping gas and entered to pay, D began to tell me about the great candy display — just then, the clerk yells to her, “Hey, my manager just called in and she said if you want it, take it, because we were just going to toss that candy display anyway.”

“Really?” D asked, and dashed back to claim it before something tragic befalls it. So, look-out Garth, come July this is going to be your birthday gift.

2. Fond du Lac

Just after passing through Fond du Lac, on the westernmost end of town, an open garage and a neon-pink sign caught my eye. With a quick braking and a weave over to the berm, we piled out to this unforeseen rummage sale. First, D spotted a stuffed cat by Dakin, who looks a lot like her old sawdust filled Tiger (name Tigger). This new kitty isn’t vintage; he’s retro 1976. D figured Tigger could use a pal, and for fifty cents she cradled him lovingly.

Wandering the tables in garage D also spotted a flat-box of old cowboy toys, Johnny West toys by Louis Marx. She was reminded of the one she had when she was younger: Comanche, the bay with black mane and tail, and articulated head and legs. I have a Geronimo at home, and as D and I were chatting about the box, the proprietor of the sale came over to say, “Of all the toys our kids had, those were the most played with.”

On top are the two horses, each with their tails broken off. “Oh, how sad! Horses without their tails,” D cooed, lifting one out of the box. “You know it’s going to be hard for a horse without his tail,” she said, “all those flies biting…” The old lady laughed (with D or at her — who can tell?).

D begin to sort through the rest of the stuff: bridles, cowboy hats, rifles, a drum, bags of gold, a frying pan, three coffee pots, feather headdress, chaps, etc. “Oh, it’s $2 for the whole box,” the lady offered before returning to her cashbox. D quickly decided that, with all those pieces, it’s got to be worth at least that.

“Johnny’s arms are missing, so even with all these rifles… Well, she’s gonna have to do the shooting,” D said, and both I and the lady have a laugh. Whether D thinks we’re laughing with her or not, she’s happy — she’s got the toys.

Coming up next: more sales, borrowing from the banker in the van, myseriously scary barns!