Like clockwork, as the flowers fill the yards, auction sale bills fill the pages of our local papers.Auctioneers must recognize the Midwesterner’s need to be outside after the long cold winter. Once the weather warms to nearly enjoyable temperatures, auctioneers begin to advertise the treasures they have to sell.The first day David and I moved into our home in Hills, the sound of a microphone could be heard in the distance. My mother, a lifelong auction junkie, recognized the sound and demanded we break from the hauling of boxes to follow the audio clues to potential treasures.We all obliged — after all, it was a hot September afternoon, and usually where there is an auction, there is a lunch cart of some sort. My father, my brother and I quickly browsed the boxes lining a side street in town, filled a delicious hamburger with garden-fresh fixin’s and returned to emptying the moving truck.Conversely, my husband and mother stayed behind. In David’s defense, he was witnessing his first auction sale and seemed a bit mesmerized by the process. My mother needed to be there to coach him as to the "rules" of the sale.The rules aren’t that tricky, but they are important. Rule No. 1: What you see is what you buy, without any guarantees. Lamps may not work, a table may never sit level, a box of dinnerware might be full of cracks — or, on the other side, a jewelry box might hold an antique diamond ring, a painting might be worth hundreds of dollars. My mother and I have sorted through more boxes of junk in search of potential treasures than I care to remember.Rule No. 2: Never show your true interests. No matter how perfect an item might be, you can’t let the other auction-goers know that you want it. You must play it cool.Rule No. 3: Help the auctioneers. If they are having trouble getting a bid, throw up your hand and bid a buck. Later, when there is something you want, they will remember the favor.Hours passed before my mother and David returned from the auction. When they did, they had a suburban full of stuff and apparently had several additional loads to haul back from the auction.I could see the excitement in David’s eyes. He liked auctions. We took another break while he told me all about the bidding and the prizes he had won.Yes, that is one of the joys of auctions. With traditional shopping, you go to the store that sells the item you need, you pay the posted price and then it is yours. You take it home with you with no questions asked. At an auction, you find things you need. It is rare that they have the exact item you seek, but as you roam the aisles of stuff, you find what you need. Then you must be patient enough for that area to be on the auction block – sometimes you have to wait for hours, the whole time keeping an eye on the prize.When the bidding starts, the game begins. Only one person will have the winning bid, only one will win. That thrill is so much better than shopping!Another charming aspect at an auction is the auctioneers themselves. Having spent my share of hours being held prisoner in karaoke bars, I understand the necessity for people with microphones to actually be entertaining. And usually auctioneers come through, especially in Hills.The Keith Elbers-Clark Ahders team is hilarious. Sometimes, while I listen to them trying to get bidders interested in yet another exercise bike, or a box of old books, I think the world should give them a radio show.A few weeks ago when bidding was slow on an old toolbox, Ahders said, "There is enough in there to overhaul an ant farm."Quick quips like that are not only frequent, but get better with time.This Saturday the men of Elbers Auction Service will haul out a street full of treasures at the same time the Beaver Creek auctioneer will take to his microphone. The weathermen are calling for a clear sky and perfect temperatures, so take a short walk to see what all the fuss is about. Although you won’t get guarantees while you are there, I can guarantee you will get a good meal and a few hearty laughs.Story ideas or comments can be emailed to Lexi Moore at lexim@star-herald.com or called in at 962-3561.