My first flea market was that one at the Big Red Barn. You know it — that one on the outskirts of Prunedale, that little town you might drive by if you take Highway 101 to Monterey. It’s not particularly nice, but I didn’t know anything better when I was 7, 8, 12 … it’s where I became a flea market regular. A scavenger — and proud of it. It’s where I felt like I was digging through hundreds of garage sales in one tarped square.
It was a Sunday family tradition.
And while things have changed — we’ve moved, and I don’t think the Big Red Barn really has a market anymore — but my family still likes to hit the local flea market some mornings. Over the holidays, while my brother was visiting from Florida (and had just returned from Afghanistan), my mom, little sister and brother and I, bundled up and hit the market at the community college (the little bro failed to bundle).
My sister bought a movie and chicken-on-a-stick; I took enough iPhone photos to have my sister yell, “Stop taking pictures!” Other than that, we went home empty handed. Still, a successful trip.
Do you flea? Where are you favorites?