I’ve lost track of how many Saturdays I’ve spent wandering Arkansas flea markets with a coffee in one hand and no real plan. That’s usually when I find the best stuff.
You start out just looking, then suddenly you’re digging through a box of old license plates or debating if you need a rusty lantern. It happens fast.
Every market feels a little different, too. Some are loud and packed, others move at an easy pace where nobody’s in a hurry…