In Which I Finally Experience A Car Boot Sale

The moving plans continue. Later this week, a company comes to take away half
our stuff. Later this month, the other half goes. So there’s a lot of cleaning
and deciding of what really needs to go. And in Britain when you do a clear out,
you don’t have a garage sale. Instead, you go to a car boot sale. That’s where a
bunch of people gather to sell things out of the back of their cars — out of
the trunks, or as the Brits say, the boot. Until now, I’d only experienced the
joys of buying at car boots. This Sunday, a whole new world — being the guy
flogging his stuff.

For my British readers, Americans don’t do car boots. We have garage sales,
where at an individual home, someone puts out all their stuff they want to sell.
On Saturdays, people know to drive or bike or even rollerblade around
neighborhoods looking for sales. There are often signs on street corners telling
you when one is happening.

I don’t know why Brits don’t do garage sales and instead gather to do car
boots (and here’s a good
introduction to them). Perhaps some houses lack front yards, which may have helped the
tradition start. Wikipedia’s no great help,
telling me only that
car boots started in the 1980s, which I kind of doubt.

I did the car boot sale with my friend Nick more for the experience than
hopes of raising moving cash. Our day started bright and early. We drove to a
place outside Salisbury where car boot sales are held each Sunday. 7am, folks
paying about $12 each for a "pitch," a place on the damp grass to park their
cars. The organized and regulars even have tables:

One plus in going with Nick is that when he’s not using his van to cart his
mobile DJ stuff around, it can double to
carry all the stuff he and I have both accumulated in our garages. Above at the
top of this post, my Mini demonstrated how much it can carry, too.

Nick being organized had a table. I did not. I relied on a few tarps, and I
shamefully failed to organize stuff in any particular way:

Actually, I did eventually get a little more organized. I was particularly
proud of my "Country Life" section where the old dog cages were organized along
with a million pairs of Wellington boots that so are not coming to California,
topped off by that tractor photo.

I felt I was at an advantage against the others at the car boot, as I
launched energetically into banter. It was a bright crisp day, and there was
plenty of fun to be had. Why, when this man picked up that tractor photo and his
baby gasped in delight, I told him he clearly had to buy it. 50p richer –
that’s about $1.00 — we were both happy

Midway through, another classic car boot tradition — bacon sandwiches!

They tasted better than the looks on our faces. I think we were questioning
whether Nick’s wife was working my phone the right way to take a picture.
Clearly she did and was simply troubled by the material she had to work with.

Another highlight of the day was when a man buying my old rotary sander asked
how well it worked. I told him about as well as any 3 pound sander would work.
Seriously, $6 and you’re looking for a year guarantee or something?

Nick had told me the professionals would swoop in at the beginning to grab
all the good stuff, and there were a few of those. Me, I was more struck by one
family that carefully weighed up the decision on whether to buy my old stereo,
as theirs had broken. At 4 pounds when they asked me the price (I learned you
just make these up on the spot), they wondered how well it worked. I dropped the
price to 2 pounds, and that still seemed a big gamble for them but one they
took.

In retrospect, I wish I’d just given them the stereo with best wishes. You
kind of lose your head in the deal-making rush. Two pounds doesn’t seem much to
me and other people, but it can be depending on your circumstances — and it’s
good to have that reminder at a personal level. I can certainly remember when I
first came to Britain, deciding if I wanted to add an extra zone to my London
Underground travel car for the day, and whether I could afford the 50p hit.

Just before wrapping up for the day and packing, someone came along to buy my
old wind-up electrical cable. I found myself nostalgic as I handed it over,
telling the man and his wife there were a lot of memories with it.

"Memories?" he asked me, somewhat amazed such a generic item could generate
such a response, I guess. I explained that when I bought my very first home
here, there was a lot of home
improvement / DIY that I did. That cable was one of the first things I
bought, a big investment at the time and used for everything from running my old
borrowed electric lawnmover (a Flymo that is supposed to hover above the ground
but doesn’t really) to running a power sander I used to restore the floors of my
first son’s future nursery.

Yep, a lot of memories. Funny how those can be bundled up in objects you
never expect. Funny how we can drag these personal items that have been moved
from house to house to be displayed not just for public view but for sale for
tiny amounts.