I Don't Know What This Means

I'm driving along in Tennessee. It's Sunday morning, nothing but churches and flea markets are open at this hour. The highway goes up, up, up until it reaches the top of a mountain, then down it goes dipping and curving like a roller coaster ride.

A sign beside the road tells me there's a flea market ahead. The next three signs describe the treasures to be found there:

Knives and Swords

Sam's Quilts

Nothing Unique

The last one makes me want to stop. What do they sell? White socks? Ketchup? Marine engines? Don't you want to know? I may have to mosey on back and find out. If I do, I'll let ya'll know. In the meantime, take a gander here and read more about the interesting oddness of country life, or so it seems, when seen through the eyes of this city gal.