This is a story about one of those people you come across in your life, and they leave such a lasting impression, you will never ever forget them. You’ll never forget the way they talk, the way they act, and even quite possibly the way they smell. This is a story about Sweet Baby Randy.

            In the beginning of our young yard sailing career, we were ballin’ on a budget. We didn’t have much money to spend, and we were looking for items we could make small fast profits on. Something we thought we would have success with were vinyl records. They typically were sold for about a dollar a piece and we thought we would maybe be able to double our money… We were wrong. However what we didn’t make in terms of money, we definitely made by ways of experience. We were in the Henderson/ Green Valley area, very early one morning, picking through a sale. We were both into this box of records, digging, and digging, pulling out nothing important, when the voice of an angel was heard. In a scratchy, cigarette ridden voice we hear her say, “ Hey boys, what are ya lookin’ for? I got all kinds of those back at my place if you’re interested.” Being young and experienced we turned on our charm, we told her we would love to come check out her collection, and in turn she told us to keep an eye out for a blonde dresser.

            The entire day, all I could think about was this lady named Randy, with the scratchiest of scratchy voices, and a collection of vinyl records I thought would be every bit golden. We sailed along from yard to yard, no blonde dressers in sight, the only blonde on our mind was a wiry haired Sweet baby Randy.

            As our day comes to an end, we give randy a call and we set a date to meet. We would meet the upcoming Monday, around noon.

            The anticipation steadily grew over the following day and a half, I had visions of Randy, cigarette in hand, frolicking in a collection of rare vinyl records, perfect condition, autographed, and still factory sealed. My Imagination was my worst nightmare.

            When it was time to meet with Randy on Monday my excitement was at its peak, we have never done a house visit, and we had no idea what to expect. As we roll up to the house, we give Randy a call and let her know we are outside. She took awhile so we waited… and then the moment was upon us, the sound of the garage door creaked loud and proud, as the garage door slowly rose up to reveal its inner beauty. As the garage begins to reveal what treasures lay inside, out rolls what appears to be a 14 year old kid, wearing a sleeveless t-shirt, tattoos on the arm, cigarette in one hand, and the other had is controlling the power wheelchair he is playing in. We walk up and introduce ourselves, he says his name, but I didn’t hear it. I was to focused on the fact he looked like a middle school boy, yet he was smoking heaters, and had all types of tattoos. I quickly turned my attention to the garage, where I found Randy, and her daughter pulling out the bins of records she had for us. This was not what I had envisioned.

            As we are digging through this collection of records, we get to talking. Randy, lit one up and with every inhale of that Camel Cigarette, followed an exhale of smoke and a story. She told us tales of how she used to hang out with Van Halen back in the 80’s. She even went as far to say she did cocaine in a motel with them. They rented out the entire floor, and you could go from room to room, and just party. She vividly remembered using $100 bills to snort their drugs, and she said it was one of the greatest times of her life. Her children were present for this story, and they loved every minute of it. As we kept digging through records, she kept talking, and her son kept driving around in the wheelchair. We couldn’t get out of there fast enough. After second-hand smoking a few more cigarettes, Ryan and I decided on about 50 different records. We made the deal, and got out of there as fast as we could.

    Looking back on this decision, I don’t think I would change a thing, only because I got the chance to meet Randy and her Family. Her hoarse voice, tan skin, and raggedy blonde hair will forever stay with me, as well as one thing she asked us when she found out we were getting into buying and reselling as a hobby. She asked in her raspy voice, “What’s your specialty?” At the time we didn’t have one, we told her we specialize in everything, later looking back, it definitely wasn’t vinyl’s, it turned out to be small kitchen appliances, Randy liked furniture, and paintings, and we both shared the hope of finding a hidden treasure.

Still haven’t found a blonde dresser.

-N

Early on in our sailing career we were eager to find our next deal.  We could not wait until the following Saturday to rummage through items to find our next Saladmaster Deep Fryer (See "Beginners Luck?").  In the meantime, we scrolled through Craigslist in hopes of uncovering a honey hole. What we uncovered instead was the estate sale...

We saw a posts with pictures of all sorts of items we were after, so we inquired.  On the other end of the telephone was a voice that sounded near death.  Was he selling his own possessions before passing on?  Would we witness a death at our first estate sale?  These questions were answered when a late 30's well built male answered the front door of this North Las Vegas neighborhood.  He invited us in with his gasping voice and introduced himself as Craig.  The walls were covered with china cabinets full of "collectibles" that according to him were his inheritance from his grandmother who was a collector.  This did not appear to be the case because unless his grandmother was a sports loving, beer drinking, guitar playing, disney plate collecting, art loving senior citizen, it was most likely purchased by Craig himself.  We wandered the house looking for items that had value and a current market with Craig watching us like a hawk.  Every item we picked up and inquired about the price seemed to be priced at retail.  Craig's reasoning for his prices was that he did a "high to low" search of the item on the computer.  This was the case for every single item and this pick was going no where fast.  We turned on the charm and struck up a conversation.  It turns out that Craig is just your ordinary adult film actor who is stockpiling weapons for the impending apocalypse.  Now the open cans of cat food everywhere made sense.  It was time for us to make a deal on items that Craig had overlooked.  We ended up purchasing a 1980's Dualit Toaster, an antique Avanti tobacco pipe, three Goebel Hummel Dolls, two sketches, and a ceramic Mickey Mouse piece that was given to our friend Dick as a gift.  This was not one of our most profitable adventures to say the least, but meeting Craig was an experience in itself.

Our second attempt at an estate sale ended up being equally unsuccessful.  We ventured to a nearby estate sale during my lunch break from work.  We pulled up to the house and rang the door bell.  After a few long minutes, the door opened just enough to peek outside.  Staring at us was a frail woman with few teeth.  I explained that we had seen her ad on Craigslist and would like to see what she had to offer.  She immediately began yelling at us telling us to come inside, citing her lack of hearing as the reason for the excessive volume.  Being the gentlemen we are, we entered the home politely and began viewing her items.  Before we could ask the price on one item we were told by the woman that if we were here to steal any of her items that she was a gypsy and she would put a curse on us.  This added urgency to our visit because we were not about to get cursed.  We asked about two figurines she had and she gave full retail price.  We immediately knew this sale was not for us and we exited as fast as we could, thanking her of course.  This was our last attempt at the estate sale.

We have not eliminated the estate sale from our list of possible picks, but that scene needed to calm down.  Maybe we just weren't ready for it, or maybe estate sales were not ready for us? 

-R