We were having such a great day we weren’t ready to go home just yet so we looked up another antique store and found the Rockin’ Thru the Ages Antiques which was… an absolute riot. LOVED this place! It was the only antique store I’ve ever been to that had mini golf course out the back door. And inside? A rock wall. Clearly this place used to be something else but now it was an antique store I was loving how quirky it was.

This place was after my heart when right at the entrance there was two ventriloquist dummies sitting on the floor, slack-jawed, just gawking at people coming in. One was a Howdy Doody and the other was the same dummy I keep finding and not being able to buy. He was fully intact and only $35 and obviously almost came home with me. Only reason he didn’t was because he ended up being a pull string doll instead of a proper ventriloquist dummy. SIGH. SO CLOSE.

The main floor of this place was nice, spacious, good variety of things. My companion was a little weirded out by the display case of Nazi medals at the back. I was more freaked out by the wrought iron handcuffs that had a little label stating they were from a prison back in the day. Clearly an otherwise bright and happy store had this weird corner of human depravity. We shuffled off.

Downstairs was more fun because it was the epitome of basement antiques. SO MANY CLOWNS. And they were all hobos. Why? NO IDEA. I was already working through my own hobo related trauma after learning Candy Mountain, that sweet, adorable children’s song, actually had several lyrics that were censored from the final cut. Basically, it was narrated by a runaway boy telling a hobo pedophile to fuck off. And that’s what I was thinking about when I saw the hobo clowns. Adding clown make-up to the mix did not help.

All kidding aside this place had some weird things including a leather wine holder in the shape of a rooster. And the prices were unbeatable. I found an antique ceramic Jack-O-Lantern and brought him home for $5.