It’s a quiet, sunny Saturday morning in the Quail Hollow neighborhood of Fort Collins – quiet, at least, until the annual garage sale starts.
Treasure seekers begin to parade by in search of deals. They come on foot or prowl slowly by in their SUVs, looking in the driveways until something catches their attention.
Lots of them come on bicycles, which turns out to be a most efficient way of scouting out stuff and even carrying it away. One enterprising pair of men in floppy hats park their pickup on Dixon Creek Court, half a block from the Quinn house, where I’m helping with the wheeling and dealing.
They unload their bicycles and start exploring, down Dixon Creek Lane, back to Yorkshire, no doubt to Pasquinel and Skimmerhorn and every other lane on the official garage sale map, returning again and again to unload their buys in the truck and set out again. Once, they roll back down the street herding a newly purchased, riderless bicycle between them.
Inspired by the neighborly commerce, I set out on my own bicycle. I get as far as Michener before a shiny new folding bike on a lawn catches my eye. No, you have nowhere to put the thing, I say to myself.
I tell the guy I’ll give him the $25 he wants if he can get air in the tires. He does. I ride it down the street and back. We fold it up and put it in the bag that comes as part of the deal. It’s heavy, so I sling the bag over a shoulder and hoof it back to the Quinn place, laughing along with Babette at the sight of me.
I own my folding commuter bicycle for maybe 10 minutes before reselling it to a kid from South Dakota, before I have time to see what it might bring on eBay. I let it go for $25. I get to keep the picture.
What a great morning.
puncture proof 