By Al Gibson,

Clinton County News Editor

A close friend and colleague, the late Jerry Gibson, annually referred to the U.S. 127 Corridor Sale as “The World’s Largest Rearrangement of Junk” . . .

It seems to arrive quicker with each passing year, and I always have to do a “finger count” to correctly come up with the number of times, but believe it or not, for the sixth consecutive year, that opening paragraph is how we’ve gotten started with this annual account of what has become the most popular and most talked about series of articles ever published in the Clinton County News

More popular even than the “Gus the Gator” saga from 2001, the recount of each year’s “trek” along U.S. 127 on the first full weekend in August as we enjoy the sights, sounds, tastes and people watching found along what is famously known as the “World”s Longest Yard Sale” continues to garner more comments from readers with each passing year.

Intending to be a one-time, fun and whimsical recount of our first trip south in 2008, this annual recount has earned it’s own moniker here at the Clinton County News office – “The Never-Ending Story.”

As has become the custom before the start of each new trip summary, we first have to take a quick look at the previous string of trips – learning experiences in themselves that were all but one pleasant memories.

So, how did all of this get started, where have we been, what have we learned, and what about last year?

Looking back at how this all got started

Briefly, to remind the faithful readers of these “127 installments”, as well as to offer up an explanation to those of you who are new to these 127 rambling chronicles – just how did all of this nonsense get started?

Here is the annual repeat of the origin and the summary of the trips that led up to our latest 127 Trekking adventure.

It happened way back in 2007, as a fluke and a slip of the tongue during a Friday afternoon visit to a few 127 Sale booths.

Annually, Janie and I took an afternoon jaunt during the 127 Sale, heading only a few miles – either north toward the Clinton/Russell County line and back home, or sometimes in the opposite direction to the state line at Static. Hardly ever did we venture more than 10 miles.

It was during the Friday afternoon run toward Tennessee back in 2007 that I made the statement that would come back to haunt me – or as it has actually turned out – to be a blessing in disguise . . .

During that weak moment in 2007, I had noted that if she wanted, we could take an extended trip down the 127 Corridor the next year (in 2008), staying a couple of nights, sleeping in the truck, and seeing just how much of this 127 Sale we could take in during a two day period.

Feeling pretty certain that as the year went by, the memory of that statement would slip out of her mind, it became evident as that first weekend of August approached, that I would have no such luck.

She was actually still talking about the pending trip, gathering items that would be needed for a two-night truck camp, and making notes of what needed to be stockpiled as the weekend approached.

2008 – the first run

That inaugural trip proved to be more than either of us had expected as we traveled completely across the state of Tennessee, through Chattanooga and across the boundary into Georgia (just to say we had) before turning around and heading back to the great Commonwealth of Kentucky (Home Sweet Home).

Back to back stays in the small, family owned and obviously struggling RV park known as the Ballyhoo Campground brought even more lessons, including the most important one – coffee pots are allowed at RV parks – a host of meals at Shoney’s and even a few treasures bought along the way.

2009 – let’s go north

Then there was the follow-up trip that came in 2009 – Trekking II, a venture that even Janie couldn’t believe that I had agreed to – a run through Kentucky toward the northern part of the 127 Sale – hopefully reaching the state line at Ohio in the same fashion as that first trip had produced.

With the family dog in tow – Oscar the Wonder Dawg – a patient and well tempered Boxer – we headed north for what would eventually become the worse experience we have had in several years – and still remains the single biggest failure of our Trekking 127 experiences.

The venture north quickly gave up evidence that with the exception of Clinton County, our home state of Kentucky, simply hadn’t embraced the 127 Sale concept with the enthusiasm that our neighboring state to the south had.

Sure, there were some good gatherings of booths – and even a few large concentrations that we referred to as “epicenters” of 127 offerings – but the spacing in between could last for miles and miles of empty highways.

Then there was the failed campground visit in 2009 that saw us leave the first choice which was jam-packed, and eventually pull into a make-shift space at the Pioneer Playhouse campground, just inches from the highway.

It was during that Saturday of the 2009 Trek that Janie uttered the now famous words that have been repeated to her over and over again by you loyal readers, the day she “tapped-out” at the Frankfort Shoney’s (by the way, if you are ever in our capitol city, that’s one of the nicest Shoney’s in the franchise).

“This sucks – I want to go home – let’s just go home” which brought to an end our trip north, and nearly brought the entire venture to a sour closing.

2010 – let’s try it again – and go south

But at my urging, we once again headed out another year for Trek III, this time showing that as adults – we had learned from our mistakes – would once again head south, leaving our now two Boxers at home, and likely would just make it a single overnight and back home trip.

That decision proved after all, to be a good move, and when the books were closed on that second trip south, we both agreed it was a good experience – good enough that likely we could plan on continuing our annual 127 trip.

As with any of the trips, there were positive highlights in that 2010 experience – didn’t get trapped by a herd of women at the Shoney’s salad bar, but we did get to eat there three times in two days.

Some good stops along the way had yielded some nice finds – nothing big, a new hat and sun shades for me, along with a couple of new Halloween yard decorations, and for Janie, what else – some jewelry, some glassware and a few Christmas yard items.

Oh yeah – it was during that 2010 run that Janie acquired the trash bag full of “unloved” stuffed animals for her nieces – as well as the big, green stuffed frog that I chose to name “10” (the sum of adding 1+2+7) and placed on the dashboard of the Ford Excursion not only for the entire trip, but leaving him in place for the rest of the year as well.

The frog still rides on the dash of my truck daily – ready now for his second outing on a 127 run.

A good night at what we had proclaimed as our “127 Home away from Home” – the still struggling Ballyhoo Campground – and an uneventful return trip home to a couple of lonely but glad to see us dogs and the 2010 trip was in the books.

2011 – back to Tennessee and a new overnight home

Although we had decided that the 2011 trip would again be into Tennessee, Janie got 2011 off to her own start with a Tahoe full of girlfriends and a Thursday trip north and back, reaching the Russell County epicenter that was in fact one of the bright spots of our failed trip north in 2009.

Myself, I got the 127 weekend off as I always do, a stop at the Mountain View Park on Friday and a stop at home at the Papineau center in the Snow Community – always a successful stop if for no other reason than the chance to grab up some of Hunter Shearer’s Bar-B-Que chicken.

A quick chat with the guy under the white tent and a good laugh from the price tag on the “real” fire hydrant along with my first purchase of the weekend, a large, metal sign of a boxing glove holding a beer bottle, a third stop at Hunter’s for some (more) chicken, and my head-start is over and it’s time for the real trip to Tennessee to commence.

Although the “epicenters” were pretty much in the same locations as they had always been, it was noticeable during the 2011 trip that crowds were beginning to look smaller than the previous years, but stops at familiar places such as the Forbus General Store, the Jamestown headquarters stretch, Jordan Motel and of course the Clarkrange Park still proved to be good stops with lots of good stuff and crowds of slow walking people.

It was during that 2011 trip however that we encountered our first major disappointment when we discovered that our favorite overnight spot – the Ballyhoo Campground – had not survived for another season and was now closed, forcing us into the Cumberland Mountain State Park Campground for the night.

A Saturday run into Crossville, after of course a couple of meals at my favorite restaurant, Shoney’s, then it was on south for several more stops before some heavy rains made a stop in Pikeville impossible.

One more meal at Shoney’s on the way back through Crossville with a new tin Halloween pumpkin yard decoration, a box full of candlewick dishes and the lesson that banana boxes only meant “someone else’s junk” and that 2011 trip came to another successful ending.

2012 – Another run south and a night on Baked Bean Lane

With an agreed upon trip south for the weekend, Janie and I again head toward Crossville on Friday, after a normal start on Thursday perusing some of the local offerings in Clinton County.

After spending some time admiring a table in the Snow epicenter that was piled full of women’s panties for the bargain price of $1 each, I leave for Tennessee with Janie in the big blue Excursion, without any accompanying pets except for “10”, the big green stuffed frog that has served as a year-around Yard Sale mascot, riding on the dash with his sunglasses in place.

It was a pretty good run, with nothing being especially noteworthy to our now successful routine of headed through Crossville and into Pikeville, Tennessee,

A few bargains here and a proud grouping of Halloween yard decoration purchases in Crossville were the highlight of my 2012 trip along the 127 route,.

Most noteworthy was my new found friendship at the favorite Halloween shopping stop at the first Crossville epicenter, where I encountered what I first thought to be a vendor with a huge booger hanging from his nose, only to discover on closer examination that it was a metal decoration.

Having ventured once into the tattoo parlor, I’m still certain that the nose piercing salon won’t be on my bucket list.

With our favorite overnight stopping spot – the Ballyhoo Campground – still closed down, we find yet another new overnight home, this one much nicer than last year’s Cumberland Mountain State Park stay, and we decide that barring a Ballyhoo resurrection, the Bean Pot Campground and our Baked Bean Lane camping location will likely be a fixture on future trips.

A classic run to Pikeville, Tennessee and home, the 2012 trek was yet another successful trip, with the possible exception that the venture involved only two and not the customary three stops at the Crossville Shoney’s

Trek VI – back to Tennessee

So, with that history of this trek in place – it’s time to once again take a deep breath and embrace this weekend of bargain hunting, slow driving, haggling and of course – grabbing a bite at a great restaurant a time or four.

But first, there is always some shopping, sight seeing and visiting that must be done right here in Clinton County, and the start of the 2013 trek was no exception.

After having resisted the temptation to stop at either of the best Clinton County epicenters prior to Thursday – Mountain View Park or the former Albany Ford location at the 127/Ky 90 caution lights, I made a run through the Snow Community Albany Ford spot early Thursday morning.

Lots of people, but it was a different sort of commotion that caught my eye this time – television cameras and crews, and obviously from their appearance, several people who, as we often say – obviously “ain’t from around here”

Transforming back from 127 shopper into newspaper reporter, I quickly located the producer of the show being filmed at the Albany Ford location – a segment of the Home and Garden Television Network (HGTV) program Endless Yard Sale.

Learning that the segment will air in September and involve three teams of yard sale shoppers in a competitive setting, the show begins it’s trek right here in Albany, Kentucky and heads south to a planned destination of Dunlap, Tennessee.

Back to the business at hand, perusing our local 127 Sale offerings, I soon run into Mrs. David Armstrong, who once again tells me just how much she enjoys reading the Yard Sale article each year, and urges me not to ever give up on the annual trip.

“I’m looking forward to reading this year’s account,” she quietly says with a smile as we both head off to other tables under the big white tent.

During this Thursday mid-day stop, several readers remark about how much they continue to enjoy the story and I thank each of them for being so kind – and loyal.

With a chore to finish in Columbia, I head off on Ky 55 to rendezvous there with a delivery truck, and decide the way home would include the short trip to Russell County then down that section of U.S. 127 just to see if the community north of Albany has anything better to offer than in past years.

With nothing catching my eye until I get well into Clinton County, I pull in to the long-time vendor location in the Desda Community to take a look there, and after a few minutes, I’m barreling back down U.S. 127 for home, convinced that I’ve already had enough Yard Sale activity for a Thursday.

Friday – a little work, some local shopping and it’s time to hit the road

Friday morning begins early at the Snow house with the gathering of the 127 storage tub and a quick check of the list that was placed inside the year before noting items that might need to be added and others that could be eliminated for space-saving purposes.

Not too many changes – and some earlier shopping and organizing and the truck could easily be transformed from a big blue working vehicle to a big blue yard sale rolling comfort (that’s a stretch actually) headquarters in a matter of minutes.

A stop at the Mountain View Rec Park epicenter just north of Albany to grab some photos and of course look at the offerings brings me to the northeast corner of the vendor selection and a fellow with the G&M Hunting Dog booth who is offering a lineup of dog pillows in a host of sizes.

Of course being dog people, Janie and I are always looking for something new, but more importantly, being the owner of a still young female boxer named Belle, we’re always looking to replace something she has destroyed.

Loyal readers will recall the trip back in 2009 when we let Oscar the Wonder Dawg tag along on our failed trip to the north. As it turned out, taking Oscar on the trip – and sharing some of the KFC grilled chicken with him, was likely the highlight of the trip.

But with the addition of Belle to the Gibson family, the prospect of taking the dogs along went right out the window – along with most everything else she has decided to tear up down through the years.

Shoes, belts, stuffed animals, furniture, and yes, dog pillow after dog pillow.

So, now you understand my intrigue at these offerings from the G&M Hunting Dog booth and the owner who claims “I’ve sold hundreds – they’re indestructible and I’ve had no complaints.”

“Indestructible?” I ask myself under my breath, noting that this fellow has never met Belle.

Still I decide to plop down $60 – no haggling allowed at this booth, apparently – and head to the big blue Ford with two “indestructible” dog pillows in tow, just to give them the “old Belle test” and see how they fare.

(For the record, a year later and the dog pillows are pretty much still intact – sans a zipper from one that Belle quickly removed after a hard afternoon’s work when left alone, then made a game out of running through the house with it.)

Another quick stop at the Snow Community epicenter – I’ve seen most everything here already but I need one more chicken sandwich from Hunter’s Bar-B-Q booth – this time a plate with a nice helping of “swamp cabbage” that I will take home and scarf down while waiting on Janie to make her way from the office.

Along the way, I spot a new entry to the Snow epicenter gathering – a fellow by the name of Lucas Pennington from Nancy, Kentucky with some of the best chainsaw carvings I’ve ever seen.

Back into newspaper reporter mode, I begin a brief conversation with Lucas, to quickly learn that the large grizzly bear featured in the booth across the street and the main subject of a Clinton County News front page photo this past week – was some of his artwork.

With a host of chainsaw animals, furniture and benches surrounding him, Pennington explains his technique in transforming a large log into a bear, wildcat, cardinal or eagle, or any of the other critters he offers for sale.

“That bear was in that log,” he explains, pointing across the road to the subject on a trailer that stands nearly 11 feet tall. “I just had to cut everything off that don’t look like a bear – I’m a take it off kind of artist.”

I thank him for the information, and promise to stop back by with a copy of this week’s newspaper that features his bear works, and it’s down the road to the Gibson home to finish packing the truck, make one last look at the pile of supplies, and consume my latest Hunter’s Bar-B-Q sandwich in hopes it will hold me over for an afternoon of 127 Sale hunting in Tennessee – at least until we reach Crossville and the I-40 Shoney’s.

At 12:32 p.m. Janie, myself and “10”, the large green stuffed frog that is still riding on the dash from the 127 trek three years ago, are pulling out of the Gibson driveway and headed toward Ky. 90 and the 127 start that begins with a stop less than a mile away to fulfill my promise of delivering the newspaper to my newfound chainsaw artist friend, Lucas Pennington.

As we ease bask onto the highway, I have to gently swerve to miss a woman walking along the side of the road that was “large” in stature to say the least.

Less than a mile from the house, and my long-time 127 Sale partner has already delved into her “sarcastic” mode that will hopefully last until well after we’ve make the turn on Saturday afternoon.

“Don’t hit her – you’ll tear the truck up and we won’t get to go, Janie blurts out – quickly trying to see if she can grab those words out of the air and stuff them back into her mouth.

“Don’t write that down – I forget you write all that stuff down – I can’t believe I even said that – it’s like the pot calling the kettle black.”

12:58 p.m. – the real journey begins, again

With that final Clinton County stop behind us in the Snow Community epicenter, the 127 Yard Sale trek is finally underway and we both agree that we’ve made the run at Mountain View also and there’s no need to stop until at least the state line at Static.

Considering out loud if we might have an agenda or be searching for anything in particular, Janie quickly notes that she is not going to buy any more dishes on this trip – she promises.

“Don’t want any dishes – you can only need so many dishes,” she tries to convince herself as we head across the line into Tennessee.

Myself, I note that there’s not anything I really need, except per haps a new hatchet to replace the one that John, good friend, borrowed one afternoon and I’ve yet to be able to get back.

He admits borrowing it, and acknowledges that he would like to return it, he just can’t seem to locate it, despite several attempts to “jog” his memory

Of course, if there are any good Halloween items at that same epicenter in Crossville, where the guy with the rod through his nose works, I’ll be in for a good bargain there.

At 1:14 p.m., and with just 16 miles behind us, we pull into our first official 127 trek stopping point, the familiar gathering on the right hand side of the road that usually offers up a nice selection ranging from junk to antiques to collectibles to fried apple pies.

Just 17 minutes later – 1:31 p.m. – and we’re back in the truck and pulling back onto the highway with nothing yet in tow to claim as our first Yard Sale treasure.

“They had some good stuff, but nothing I needed – it was the same stuff they had last year,” she notes as she cracks the window, reaching for that two-thirds remaining cigarette she extinguished before exiting the truck a few minutes earlier.

Four more miles and about five minutes later – 1:45 p.m., and we are pulling off the side of the road just a few yards this side of the Forbus General Store, a Fentress County attraction in itself operated by an old golfing bud, Joe Sells.

With a nice crowd of yard sale customers milling around we join the flow of traffic and make our way through the store and the adjacent vendor housed inside in the side room, before heading on out and down the street, across 127 then back toward the parking place where we left the Ford.

Janie stops occasionally to check out a few tables of collectibles, never tarrying too long nor has she, true to her word, yet to pick up a single dish – I’m pretty sure she knows I’m watching.

Heading up the other side I encounter several flatbed trailers stocked full of old tools – old, rusty, new but mis-matched, you name it and it’s there, but nothing I really need.

The collection reminds me to take a closer look for that aforementioned hatchet I might be in the market for, but despite starting back at the beginning of the trailers, no such luck.

It’s about then that I happen to notice that Pall Mall resident and a familiar face in Clinton County, Ruble Upchurch is the owner of the tool collection for sale, and we exchange greetings as he looks up to see me at about the same time.

“Hey – how are things going in Albany?” Upchurch asks, quickly adding a bit of his wry humor to his greeting, “‘I see you brought your daughter along this time,” he laughs, pointing at Janie walking along on the other side of the tables.

Back in the truck after a dodge and darting trot across the road, we pull out and head toward the next predetermined stopping place – the Sgt. Alvin C. York home and gristmill, country store and school building.

With just 24 miles behind us and about an hour and 20 on the clock, we pull into the York epicenter and agree that we’d be better off to go ahead and separate and prepare for an extended stop.

After all, this is the area where we’ve encountered several deals too good to pass by including some old cast iron yard decorations and a vast collection of dishes – but then again since dishes aren’t on the list for 2013 maybe this won’t take as long after all.

Less than a half-hour later – at 2:47 p.m. to be exact, Janie joins me as I’ve already found my way through the right side of the road and the booths that stretch around the side of the old unoccupied school building, across 127 and down the other side and back to the truck – empty handed.

Ready for what I expected to be an extended wait in the air conditioned truck, I’m surprised to look up in just a few minutes as I hear her opening the truck door and pulling herself up and into the passenger seat (she says she’s not short, it’s just a big truck).

“Well, I thought this was going to be a ‘biggie’ but NOT – I’m so disappointed,” she says, reaching for the seatbelt which translates into she’s ready to head on down the road. “Lots of people – no stuff!”

We agree that the number of vendors at the York epicenter was barely enough now – actually less than half from previous years – that it should still retain the title “epicenter” but it’s really close to becoming a simple “gathering” of yard sale activity.

As we head on down toward the “official headquarters” of the 127 Sale – Jamestown, Tennessee – we slow down only a few times to take a quick look at a few single family sales on the side of the road, opting each time to skip them and continue on.

With 37 miles behind us at 3:13 p.m. we finally arrive at the Jamestown epicenter after a quick trip through “old” 127 to see if the downtown Jamestown stretch had anything to offer.

“Not much here except clothes – I don’t want old clothes,” Janie says with another hint of sarcasm in her voice as we continue on toward the area where the Jamestown vendors are usually the most concentrated.

After finding a parking place we both agree to head off in opposite directions, meet up at the end and discuss the options of backtracking to anything good, or moving on down the road.

Not having to stop and touch every single item on every table, I’m able to move through the epicenter much quicker than my yard sale partner and within a span of less than 30 minutes, not only have I managed to work the right-hand side of the road, but the left-hand side as well on the way back, eventually running in to Janie just a few yards from where we first separated.

“You back already?” she asked, not really pausing long enough to hear any response that I might have had to such a silly question before she continues on with her explanation. “I spent most of the time at that first booth where the jewelry was.”

I look over to try and find what must be a colossal jewelry booth somewhere that would have garnered such a long stay, but I can only spot a couple of ladies under a small pop up tent a few yards away.

“She’s the same dealer as I bought from last year and she remembered me,” Janie notes in a surprised tone. “I bought two bracelets – I’m a happy girl!”

Of course buying jewelry wasn’t her only accomplishment at the stop, as she continued on to explain that she now pretty much knew the dealer’s entire life story.

Who would have thought.

“She’s 78 years old and she’s trying to teach her granddaughter the yard sale game so she can take over,” she explains as we make our way back to the truck. “Next year, I have to look for Elaine, the granddaughter, in this same spot.”

Probably already thinking I was going to ask what she paid for this much needed jewelry find, Janie offered up even before I could ask that she had an all-new approach to making offers this trip.

“Didn’t pay the ‘marked’ price either,” she noted. “Here’s my new line this year – ‘I’d pop on that at . . .'”

That didn’t even rank a comment I figured, knowing full well that it wouldn’t last, I just eased the truck back onto the highway and headed hard for our next predetermined destination – the normal epicenter at the Jordan Motel – a goal we arrived at just a few minutes later at 3:42 p.m. and 37 miles from our back door

“The Jewelry Lady said the people at the Jordan had raised their prices for spots – that’s why she moved,” Janie continued to explain as we pulled into a parking spot near the rear of the old stone hotel and made our way back around to the front.

On the first corner of vendors we encounter a couple of familiar faces – Charlie and Marion Cyphers from back home, who have been vending a booth in this same area for several years.

“It seems to get a little smaller every year – we did about $400 less last year than the year before,” Charlie says as he continues to scan and straighten up the large array of items on his corner table. “But this is the only work that I’ve ever done that I absolutely love.”

We chat for a few more minutes, talking a little about a shared passion – Kentucky high school basketball – and say good-bye as Janie and I head on down the blacktopped lane toward the concrete pool in front of the motel, hoping to find something good on the row of tables that are set up in the shaded area.

It was then that I notice this rather large black-haired older lady going out of her way to smile and wave at me – and despite the fact that I didn’t have a clue who she was, I politely gave her a big wave back, which seemed to satisfy her completely as she turned and went on her way.

“That lady who was waving at me sure looked like Ms. Kaye Robinson from Duck Dynasty, but I’m pretty sure I don’t think I knew her,” I said out loud to Janie who is already trying to hold back a laugh.

Strolling through the lineup of used books, kettle cooked popcorn and (way too) loudly playing gospel music, I eventually reach a honey-hole of cast-iron cookware and old tools, including one milk crate completely dedicated to old hatchets – many with new handles.

Rummaging through the selection I quickly land on a very unique and well preserved hatchet with a hammer-head on the backside, complete with a nail-pulling hook under the hammer portion, an obviously fresh coat of oil and a new handle.

Priced at $22, the vendor offers a discounted price of $20 but eventually agrees to take the $18 I have in my outstretched hand, and at 3:56 p.m. I’ve scored the only real goal I had – a nice hatchet to replace the one my good friend had obviously taken a liking too.

A quick chat from another couple of Albany folk, Austin Cecil and J.C. Parrigin, who have already been to Crossville and made it this far back toward Albany.

Both commented that the offerings along the way were good, but not near as good as they had been in past years.

Going on our way, I stop to listen to a conversation a vendor lady is having with a customer at the sock booth where a wide array of socks are being offered up in all kinds of colors and bundle sizes.

“I’ve been eating popcorn so I’ve got greasy fingers,” she loudly points out to the customer, holding out a large plastic bag in front of him. “I don’t want to handle your socks, so just drop ’em in the bag yourself.

Customer bought the socks anyway and bagged them herself while the lady never really slowed down much on her huge bag of kettle cooked popcorn.

At 4:10 we’re back in the truck and after I show off my new old hatchet, we’re headed back down 127 and toward Grimsley, seeing several large gatherings and a few individual sales, but nothing that garnered pulling off the road.

Clarkrange – two good stops with one of the “simple things” in life

Clarkrange Park where cars, people and vendors were aplenty, including another Clinton County couple we ran into – Danny and Charlotte McFall.

Making our way around the walking track that is lined with vendors, the weather has cooled significantly since the earlier stop near the York School and Gristmill, but the heat continues to rise off of the blacktop.

Having walked almost all the way around the track I spot a trio of cast iron mermaids – small, medium and large – and wonder which would look the best on the backyard water feature at home.

Eventually deciding on the mid-sized mermaid, I grip it tightly and reach into my pocket for some bills when I realize the lady running the booth has been watching every move I made.

“Is that your wife/” she asks in a loud voice, pointing to Janie. “Did she see you handling those mermaids?”

“At least you got him to blush,” Janie said with a laugh, as I hand over $25 to the vendor lady who agrees to the price that is $3 lower than the marked $28.

Waiting on a gap in traffic, we pull back onto the road at 5:37 p.m., agreeing that as normally is the case, this Clarkrange Park spot is one of the best – but we’re looking forward to the next stop that always provides some good looks – the Clarkrange Chapel location just a couple of miles away.

Sure enough, before the truck even cools down, we’re pulling into the parking lot and again making our way toward the tightly packed collection of vendors who have gathered underneath the cluster of trees in the park area.

Somewhere along the way I realize – again – that I’m talking to myself, and turn to see where my yard sale partner disappeared to just in time to notice her entering one of a bank of porta-potties lined up underneath a grove of trees.

Sitting on a bench and waiting patiently, I’m quickly amused at the show going on in front of me with a young – probably pre-school aged, but no older than the first grade – girl working on an ice cream cone that has already been on the ground once.

Grandpa helps very little as the little girl scoops up the ice cream and places it back on the cone, just seconds before Grandma comes around the corner, having never seen the ice cream rescue move.

Little girl continues to enjoy her treat, Grandpa is smiling at the whole thing, and Grandma is none the wiser to any of it.

Exiting several minutes later, Janie comments on what a tremendous invention the porta-potty was, especially for events such as the World’s Longest Yard Sale.

“See, it’s the simple things in life that keep me happy,” she explains with a big grin.

Scoring a few more decorations for the water feature area at home, I shell out a bundled payment of $12 for a small cast iron cricket, a lizard and a grasshopper that has movable legs – a collection that separately was priced at $15.

Turning the corner, Janie spots some metal hummingbird spinners that catches her eye, and despite all of them being exactly identical, she examines each one before making her choice and handing over – you guess it – the $15 asking price.

In addition to having to pay the marked price, I also had to hear, from the vendor, the very detailed version of how he had managed to limp into the area earlier in the week despite the fact that the transmission in his truck was apparently on it’s final legs.

“I don’t know why,” Janie says as we walk away – even before I ask anything “It’s just something that happens to me.”

As we pull back onto the highway and continue toward our goal destination of Crossville, I begin to wonder about that gentle hunger pain I’m beginning to feel in my stomach.

“You hungry yet – where to?” I ask with some obvious sarcasm in my tone.

“I’ve got some coupons to Ruby Tuesday, just in case, but they’re good until September,”Janie offers up with the same hint of sarcastic overtones as we reach a full cruising speed.

“Yum, yum” – Shoney’s stop No. 1

After a pretty good run down the road with relatively few slowdowns, traffic moves from a full highway running speed to a sudden parade pace almost exactly at the Crossville City Limits sign.

“This must be the line to Shoney’s” Janie says without missing a beat.

Moments later, with 67 miles behind us and at 6:48 p.m., the big blue Excursion seems to be turning itself into the parking lot just beyond the big Shoney’s sign.

“They do have clean bathrooms,” Janie says as she exits the truck, never even acknowledging an earlier point I had made toward a Subway outlet across the street.

After what was yet another fantastic, never disappointing, always fresh and one of the biggest varieties ever experienced salad bars before a tasty steak and shrimp main course with a never-empty glass of ice tea, the highlight of the day – a first meal at the Crossville 5-Star Shoney’s restaurant came to an end.

On the way through the truck, she notes how the man sitting behind me in the adjoining booth had a striking resemblance to “Uncle Si” of Duck Dynasty fame.

“Well, maybe that was really Miss Kay I spotted in Crossville, reckon.” I proclaim.

She assures me it wasn’t.

Substitute Home Sweet Home – the Ballyhoo is back

Having completed a little internet investigation the week before leaving to look for possible overnight stays, I happened upon the fact that our old favorite – the Ballyhoo Campground – had been purchased at auction and was, in fact, reopened.

It was a surprise announcement that brought out a big smile from Janie, although we agreed that the Bean Pot experience in 2012 had been a good one.

With darkness headed our way, we waddle out of the Crossville Shoney’s and head through a side street or two, quickly finding Pigeon Ridge Road that will lead us to our favorite Crossville lodging spot – the best of three we’ve tried so far – the Ballyhoo Family Campground.

“I’m taking a shower as soon as we get there,”Janie says after a failed attempt to remove some forehead grime with one of those “tear-open” towel things. “I sure hope this is as good as it was.”

A quick stop inside the Ballyhoo Family Campground General Store and Office, and after paying the roughly $30 overnight fee to “Mrs. Ballyhoo” for our favorite pull in next to the fishing pond, I’m back in the truck headed toward spot #36 near the end.

A few minutes later, while we’re still trying to get the big blue truck unloaded and everything in place, I hear the roar of a golf cart coming up behind me and I turn to find the man himself – The new Mr. Ballyhoo, standing behind me with a big smile and an outstretched handshake offer.

After assuring him we were in the exact spot we had asked for, he explained that he was lifelong resident of Crossville and Cumberland County and had spent several years on a farm raising cattle.

Originally buying the Ballyhoo at an auction a couple of years earlier in hopes of expanding his farm acreage, he quickly changed his mind after spending a few days walking around his latest find.

“I didn’t mean to go into the campground business, but after I bought it at the auction, I began thinking to myself ‘boy, this is pretty neat – maybe we’ll give it a try'” he explained. “It gets a little better all along and this is really the first weekend we’ve been busy.’

With that, Mr. Ballyhoo is back in his golf cart and on with his rounds, stopping at each campsite where people are still visible, making sure everything is suitable with his gathering of guests.

After a quick check of the wifi system and clearing a few emails, (yes, the new owners have strengthened the wifi signal at the Ballyhoo) I head off to the showers with my man-soap in hand, to rid myself of the Friday yard sale grime, meeting Janie along the way as she is returning to the truck with the same task already accomplished.

I soon learn that the wifi signal isn’t the only thing the new Mr. Ballyhoo has strengthened at the facility, with the water pressure in the shower stalls being likened more to the high pressure of a car wash than a normal shower.

Returning to the campsite and I notice along the way that the new Ballyhoo owners were in fact enjoying a much larger crowd than the failed previous owners had, along with several new additions already.

As I put things away and fold out a chair to settle down to a few minutes of catching up on the ins and outs of Crossville with a good peruse of the Crossville Chronicle, I get to hear the full report Janie had learned from home and our oldest son Brett, who always dog/house-sits for us while we’re on this weekend run.

“Everything is fine,” Janie reports, noting that she “misses her dogs” but says nothing about missing Brett.

Settling down in the chair with a set of “Cat Eyes” on my hat brim to illuminate the pages of the Chronicle, we both talk about how big those frogs must be in the pond just a few feet beyond our “room” at the Ballyhoo.

Several minutes later, what had to be the grand champion bullfrog in all of Tennessee, let out a call that caused ripples to spread out across the water, a phenomena that was followed by the sound of a critter in obvious distress.

“Hey, I’m pretty sure I just heard that bullfrog eat a duck,” Janie says, having to stop her comment from going any further due to her own out of control laughter.

“Wasn’t that funny, really,” I note in return, but there’s never any response – unless you count the deep roar of an Upchurch snore from inside a big blue truck.

Saturday morning – a little fog for Day II

The sun is peaking through the window of our Ford “tent” and my internal alarm clock goes off in my head at 6:05 a.m. and I roll out the side door announcing to a still sleeping Janie that it’s “time to get up and at it.”

“Why – because it’s daylight?” she snaps back, adding “that’s not a good enough reason.”

While she continues to grab some more early morning pillow time, I start doing what I do in the mornings – make the coffee, arrange a chair, check some emails and finish writing down a few notes about the previous day’s occurrences while they are still fresh in my head.

A couple of cups of coffee down me and I head off to the showers just as Janie is making her way out of the truck and struggling to follow the smell coming from the coffee pot.

Clean and certainly invigorated after my second Ballyhoo power-shower and ready for Day II of our 2013 Yard Sale run, I return to the campsite to find my bargain hunting partner has decided that the shower on Friday night would suffice for the day, and she’s already packing up the belongings and almost ready to head off.

As we pull out of the campground, I comment that we’re off to our latest start in the history of Saturday morning runs – just after 9:00 a.m. – when I realize I’m talking to myself as she’s more concerned with perhaps her bad decision to forgo the morning shower.

“Whew, I’m hot already and the skeeters are eating me up,”Janie says as we head up the road with a good meal on our minds.

I offer up a stop at the nearby Ryan’s restaurant – knowing full well that as eating establishments go, that’s her all-time least favorite place in the entire world to eat (personally – I like the selection quite well – second only to Shoney’s).

“Only the great restaurants get a good enough reputation to see people stop for three meals in a single weekend,” I note as I pull into the Shoney’s parking lot – a parking lot that is practically jam packed I might add, just another testimony to it’s world-wide reputation of being high quality cuisine and a reasonable price.

Inside and sitting at the table waiting on a go” from our waitress who is taking our drink orders and making sure we want to feast on the endless buffet, our waitress makes a little 127 Sale smalltalk.

“You guys buying, selling or trying to avoid,” Teri asks with a smile as I leave the booth and head to join the line at the buffet, not really wanting to stick around for what I’m sure is going to be an extended conversation between Janie and Teri.

An hour later – about 10:20 – now full of breakfast fuel and ready to face the day, we make a quick walk through the collection of booths that have picked the Shoney’s location to set up for the World’s Longest Yard Sale before heading to the truck and toward the first Crossville epicenter of the day.

“It’s obvious they’ve picked this location because they knew there would be a big crowd around Shoney’s all day long,” I note out loud as I squeeze the big blue Excursion out into traffic – only to await for the smart answer that never comes.

Pulling into the parking lot near the Crossville stop that always has the best Halloween decorations – the one where “bugger nose boy” was last year, Janie quickly becomes concerned with the choice of shirts she has on.

“Oh no, that girl’s got the same top I’ve got on,” she says and I quickly point out if she had been smart like me and worn her Trooper Island Camp t-shirt – that likely wouldn’t have ever happened this far away from home.

Again – no reply and we agree to try and stay together for awhile as we make our way through the epicenter of offerings.

One of the better stops historically,, the Crossville location usually proves to be the spot where we pick up most of the bargains of the weekend, and this stop was no exception.

Back in the truck about an hour later, Janie marvels at the large, round, steel hanging tray that she plans on coupling with the metal hummingbird she purchased on Friday, noting that she paid the $12 price marked, but never acknowledging her disappointment in spotting the exact same hummingbird she paid $15 for on Friday, for only $12, not to mention what she might have accomplished with a “bundle” deal for the two.

“$12 was cheap enough,” she blurts out before I can even ask why she chose not to bargain with the vendor

I loaded up a nice “Happy Halloween” arched metal sign from the “booger-nose” booth, making the buy from a lady I would presume was his wife who noted she remembered my fondness for their Halloween items.

“I love it when people come back year after year,” the booth owner noted as I cautiously survey her face for perhaps a matching nose ring and happily find none.

We load our new prizes up into the truck, crack open a cold bottle of water each and once again we’re on our way, driving past the Crossville courthouse at 11:48 a.m., and just 13 minutes later – and two whole miles farther down the road, we’re pulling into the second major epicenter in Crossville, near the bank and strip mall.

Remembering this is where a few years earlier I had mistakenly read the price tag on a couple of wooden naked African figurines, I make sure I’ve got my glasses in my pocket and across the road we go, instantly heading off into two separate directions – Janie toward the jewelry vendor and myself into the direction of a collection of metal signs.

A pretty fun stop, but with nothing in tow, I find myself back at the truck at 12:20, expecting to spend several minutes by myself, only to be surprised to see Janie inside drinking more water with the air-conditioner on full-blast.

“You tapping out already?” I ask, referencing that fateful day in 2009 when she threw in the towel at the Frankfort Shoney’s.

“Absolutely not – I had a rock in my shoe” and with that, we’re pulling back onto the highway, again empty handed.

A quick and disappointing stop at what was once a good pullover – MeMaw’s home cooking – we both agree what had once been a serious epicenter had now, like several of the other locales, been reduced to simply a moderate collection of dusty junk.

“That wasn’t as big as usual, but it was still a pretty good stop,” Janie says.. “I looked at a box of Shiny Brites – but they weren’t good Shiny Brites, all chipped with plastic hooks.”

Never noting out loud that we already have enough “Shiny Brites” – those vintage, fragile glass-like Christmas bulbs used to decorate Christmas trees back in the 1950s and 1960s – to decorate practically every cedar tree along the Snow School Road, I manage to keep that thought to myself, being ever so thankful for chips and plastic hooks.

Twenty minutes later and we’re pulling into the Pikeville epicenter – the agreed on “turnaround” point and likely our final first-look stop of the trip and perhaps our final stop barring any repeat visits on the route back to the north.

With 116 miles showing on the tripometer at 1:46 p.m., we exit the truck and begin perusing the final epicenter, stopping to duck inside the antique house that is a year-round business, before making our way through the collection of booths on both sides of the road.

Always one of the better and most varied collections of offerings, the Pikeville epicenter proves again to be a nice stop, probably at least as large as it has ever been and certainly as varied in terms of new, old, unique and strange.

Rusty tools, army surplus, old furnishings and even a vendor selling plain and hand-decorated gourds, we make our way through the offerings without either finding anything we couldn’t live without, and some 45 minutes later, we’re within sight of the truck again and it’s pretty clear that the trip is on the bottom side of being over.

It was on the last row of booths in that Pikeville epicenter when the 2013 trip finally became complete as I spotted the all-telling sign that we were in the true 127 Yard Sale epicenter of the south – a velvet painting of Elvis. The trip could now be considered another success.

A quick stop at a small booth near the end of the epicenter where Janie picks up a large Solo cup full of fresh squeezed lemonade from a young girl – she hands her a dollar bill for the 50¢ drink and gives her a slight wink and “thanks” as she walks off.

Headed back toward Crossville, the traffic once again hits that dreaded “standstill” pace at 138 miles and we begin pondering if we should have instead found our way to Hwy. 111 for a quicker trip back to Kentucky, deciding during the same conversation that it just wouldn’t be the same (besides – it would mean no chance at that third Shoney’s meal).

“Boy, I’m sticky but we bought some good stuff this year,” Janie notes as the traffic begins to pick up to a more normal pace as we near the intersection of U.S. 127, Interstate 40 and Shoney’s Drive.

“You want to eat – you decide where,” I proclaim as we drive by the Ruby Tuesday’s just south of the interstate.

“Pull into Shoney’s, I don’t want to listen to it all the way home, I’m getting a big cheeseburger,” she says with just a hint of a grin visible as I make the right-hand turn into the still full parking lot, just to hear her sarcastically proclaim, “home again, home again, Oh, Lord.”

With another fine offering of quality buffet food and an endless glass of iced tea behind us, we head toward the truck and I silently ponder if there were any spots we missed on the way down or anything I wanted to take a second look for.

“Thank you – that was wonderful,” Janie chants as we get back into the big blue Excursion. “I think I’ll get us a Shoney’s flag to put up at home.”

Making our way through the northern portion of Tennessee with southern Kentucky on our minds, we again note that most smaller locations have closed up way before 5:00 p.m. and from all indications, very few are planning on getting back into action on Sunday.

A quick glance at the Forbus General Store shortly after 5:00 and things are still going strong, we eventually cross through Static and into Kentucky a few minutes later and at 6:02 p.m. with 210 miles behind us, we pull into the Gibson driveway to be greeted by two anxious and excited dogs happy to see the big blue Excursion making it’s way toward home.

Another good run – one without a drop of rain – and certainly south being a good choice again.

“Maybe we should have our own sale pretty soon, that would be a good article in itself,” Janie says as she exits the truck, making her now common statement about not dealing with the “stuff” until sometime Sunday.

“Nay, nay on the sale – we might not hit the road next year, but I do know for certain what I’m not doing,” I note.

So, with another year and another Gibson 127 Yard Sale run in our rear view mirror, the advice is the same as it has been for the past few years.

Make sure you’ve got plenty of water, comfortable shoes, take your time and by all means – go south.

As I’ve said several times before, it’s not always about the treasure, but mostly about the hunt.

Most importantly, and the one thing that has made my Yard Sale ventures successful and fun enough to warrant a now eight year run – make sure you pick a good traveling partner. That’s been my best secret.

It’s still a pretty fun and cheap weekend!

NEWS Editor Al Gibson holds one of his favorite finds from the 127 trek last year, a cast mermaid. At far left, Janie Gibson chats with Marion Cyphers who had a booth in Jamestown, Tennessee.

An arched metal “Happy Halloween” sign, complete with black bats, was among the items Al Gibson nabbed along last year’s 127 trek to go along with several other decorations he has picked up over the years for his favorite holiday.

Janie Gibson ran into Clinton County resident Austin Cecil last year at the epicenter booth area near the Jordan Motel in Fentress County, Tennessee.

Four beauties. . .

It was this scene that caught Al Gibson’s eye during the Clarkrange stop last year with the three cast mermaids sitting pretty on a table’s edge. Al opted for the smaller sized version, but couldn’t believe his Yard Sale partner had somehow passed them by without ever noticing their presence.

A pot to . . .

There was a pot for virtually any purpose on this table this table spotted last year at the epicenter of vendors located in the Snow Community near the old Ford garage.

Leon McClard lent his expertise to this young Yard Sale enthusiasts who was trying to figure out how to use a pair of stilts that was being offered at a booth in the Snow epicenter area.

Janie Gibson took a liking to this metal hanging birdbath and paid the asking price of $12 at the first of several epicenter locations in Crossville, Tennessee. A cast hummingbird purchased the day before in Clarkrange now hangs over the birdbath.

Among the finds the Gibsons came home with from their 2013 trek along the World’s Longest Yard Sale were a new “old” hatchett, a cast mermaid and other various cast figures for the backyard water feature, and a metal hummingbird that hangs over the new metal birdbath.