Early birds often catch the best buys at garage sales

The garage door has just opened. No sight pleases Carol Miles more.

Miles, 54, is one of dozens, perhaps hundreds, of Las Vegans roving the predawn streets each weekend in search of bargains. Armed with drive-through Starbucks and computer printouts, they live by two rules: ignore whatever time the garage sale is supposed to start, and beat every other early bird to it.

"Ah, good," Miles says. "No one else is here yet."

The night before, Miles checked the "garage sales" section of craigslist.org for the most promising listings near her northwest home. Then she plotted a route using MapQuest.com. After the alarm buzzed this morning, she performed a final computer scan. The one off Goldspur Street still rated best.

"They're moving," she explains. "That means they really want to sell their things."

Miles parks her GMC Jimmy, engages its alarm and flits toward the driveway. It is 6:32 a.m. If this were summer, she'd be out more than an hour earlier. Daybreak is the rule.

"No one puts their stuff out in the dark," she says.

Homeowner Dan Hannan is startled. His sale doesn't begin for another 28 minutes. His teenage daughters, Jessica and Heather, are still tagging the neighborhood with arrow signs.

"But I'm absolutely OK with it," he says.

Miles tears through unopened boxes and bags, like a coyote the night before garbage day. Most haven't been moved to the driveway yet.

"What's this green thing?" she asks.

"What's in this Target bag?"

"Do you have a lid for this thing?"

It's hard for most garage-sale vendors to turn down early morning money, even if it's less than they expect, because there's no guarantee anyone else will buy anything later.

"The point of a garage sale is to sell stuff," Miles explained earlier, "not to keep stuff."

Once in a while, Miles will encounter someone who yells, "No early birds!" then lowers the garage door. She shrugs it off.

"They're usually old people who think that since they paid 20 dollars for an item, they can get 10 for it," she says, "when it's probably worth a buck."

It's not the worm Miles is hunting for so much, but the thrill of the kill.

"It's fun to find bargains," she says, explaining that most of what she buys goes to her two daughters and two grandsons -- or to Goodwill.

A different breed of early bird does it strictly for the money. Bill S., 64, and his 30-year-old son hit about 30 sales per weekend hunting for bargains to resell on Amazon.com.

Bill -- who asked not to publish his last name for fear of harassment from co-workers at his full-time job -- says that profits of $1,000 per weekend are not uncommon.

Like Miles, they prefer moving sales.

"Sometimes you see a divorce sale, too," Bill says. "That's usually good."

At the bottom of Bill's list go estate sales, about 80 percent of which, he says, are operated by liquidators well aware of what's lining the driveway.

Bill S. and his son hit the most promising listings one or two hours before they start. Sometimes, they'll call the night before.

"Or if it's close to my neighborhood, I'll drive by and see if they're setting up," Bill says.

Using a laser bar-code scanner -- which sells for $500-$800 on eBay -- they'll check books, CDs and DVDs for their Amazon.com prices. (These scanners require a subscription to an inventory service, which runs about $30 per month.)

Although an increasing number of garage-sale vendors are savvy to the value of their wares, incredible bargains are still possible. Last month at a garage sale in Shreveport, La., Tiesha McNeal snagged a painting with a familiar name at the bottom. Edith Parker accepted her offer of $2 for what she assumed was a fake Picasso. Parker was selling it to raise money for the relatives of her neighbor, a recently deceased art collector.

"I kept looking at this picture and said, 'Well it don't look like much,' " a distraught Parker told ABC News. "And it was in this cheap little frame." (If authenticated, the unknown masterpiece could fetch millions at auction.)

Such a lifestyle-changing moment has so far eluded Bill S. and his son. But at one downtown sale on a recent Saturday, Bill scanned in the bar code for a book called "Harmony: Illustrated Encyclopedia of Rock 3rd Edition" and did a double take at the readout.

"I thought there was something wrong," he recalls.

Amazon had it for $998. Bill paid $6.50.

"That only happens about once a month," he notes. "But it's like hitting a royal flush. It makes your day."

After only six minutes at Hannan's sale, Miles has accumulated a sleeping bag, eight rolls of wrapping paper, 15 books, a Wiggles stool and a canister of Play-Doh.

"Mommy doesn't let my grandson have Play-Doh," she explains, flashing a grin. "Mommy's mean."

Her $10 bill is out before Hannan can compute a price. He accepts.

Miles rushes back to her SUV and onto the next house. It's 6:38 a.m. She has only 21 more minutes left to be early.

Contact reporter Corey Levitan at clevitan@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0456.