Sounds like he was desperate for customers.
We always get a lot of people drive by with their necks twisted round so they can take in the offerings, and then speed on. That happens several times an hour here. It's minorly insulting thinking that they don't consider my wares significant enough to actually stop the car and get out, but then I remember that I didn't have to deal with them and everything is okay again.
The ones who really piss me off are the people, usually men in their fifties and sixties, who want to get a treasure dirt-cheap from an unsuspecting yokel and then turn around and sell it for a fortune at the flea market or on ebay. I hate them so much.
When I was younger, I opted to rent out a flea market booth instead of having a yard sale at my own home. My parents had a pickup truck and helped me haul the goods to the site. We were there when the area opened to sellers at 5 am. As we pulled into our parking spot, BEFORE THE TRUCK WAS EVEN PARKED, men were jumping into the truck bed and rummaging through the boxes. I was so enraged that if I'd had a baseball bat or machete on me, there wouldn't have been one left standing. I mean, they didn't even wait for the truck to stop! Fucking scavengers!
It went on like that all day. Men would walk swiftly by and barely pause to address me with this unvarying statement:
"Any old fishing tackle, coins, old watches, model trains, war memorabilia?"
I'd tell them no and they wouldn't even acknowledge it, just move on to the next one. A couple minutes later, another one would speedwalk by.
"Any old fishing tackle, coins, old watches, model trains, war memorabilia?"
It wasn't long until I could spot them a mile away and know what they were going to say before they had even removed the cigarettes from their mouths. I seriously considered planting a sign that said NO OLD FISHING TACKLE, COINS, OLD WATCHES, MODEL TRAINS OR WAR MEMORABILIA. Then I considered planting another sign that said WE HAVE OLD FISHING TACKLE, COINS, OLD WATCHES, MODEL TRAINS AND WAR MEMORABILIA and lying in ambush, doing the world a service.
Almost fifteen years hence, the fishing tackle-coins-old watches-model trains-war memorabilia chestnut is still rolling. I say no. Then they want tools, guitars and amps. This year I fucked with them and said I had sold my husband's
Gibson...Hummingbird, I think it was called? Some bird name, for $5, to a nice man about 10 minutes prior. They gaped and sped off, thinking dark thoughts about some rival asshole who got to the moron before they did.
I do enjoy that.