Well, it’s done — the auction of our household goods is in the books and, on balance, we’re satisfied with the way it went. The day began with loading the rented truck a fourth time and towing away the Bumper Bunker (which required moving Ernie for the first time since March). We arrived at the fairgrounds, site of the sale, shortly after 11am.
I can tell you that walking into a large building and seeing 90% of our personal possessions laid out on a hundred tables is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It was as if I was attending my own funeral or wake, material symbols of 65 years on Earth going to the highest bidder.
Deb was pretty emotional about it. I managed to detach and actually enjoy the event.
For the most part I stayed away from the caller and connected with people. A number of friends showed up, including my college roommate. He drove up from Cincinnati and bought several lots, notably an old pellet revolver and our gas grill. He also gifted us with a dozen eggs from his chickens.
For the first couple of hours Deb and I were occupied babysitting the firearms we had for sale. Protocol and law dictate that the auctioneer can’t take possession of guns to be sold like he could a credenza or a lawn mower, so we zip-tied the actions and spread them out on a table. We answered questions and did our best to build interest.
They all sold well, some better than others. The most enthusiastic bidding happened around a never-fired Ruger 22 Charger Takedown, which made me smile.
When the Bumper Bunker crossed the block, the auctioneer wasn’t able to generate a reasonable bid — surprising, really, and definitely disappointing. He walked away from it, knowing that we had a minimum number in mind.
Almost as soon as he moved on, Deb and I were approached by three parties who had questions about the rig. We took the time to answer and explain and reassure, and before long I got word to the auctioneer that it might be worth returning to the trailer and take another run at it.
He started the bidding slightly lower and this time it took off. When it stalled, he turned to us — we could reject the bid or accept it. We walked outside and agreed that the bid, a thousand dollars more than the least we’d agreed to accept, would be enough.
So our beloved Bumper Bunker went to a wonderful couple from Lancaster. It’ll be their first RV, just as it was ours.
Not everything sold, of course, and most of the leftovers will go to charity. Not everything brought what it should’ve, either, for a variety of reasons. We’ll have to see what the net is, after expenses, before we can say that it truly was a success. The most important thing is that it’s behind us.
I’d like to tell you more about this very long and exhausting day, but I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open. And tomorrow is coming up fast.
One year ago today, we went back to The Mountain. It was starting to feel like Home.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.