My home is filled with junk. Well, salvaged industrial refuse, anyway. Near the front door, a busted Singer sewing machine doubles as a writing desk, and in the hallway hangs my prized possession: a gigantic rusty Coca-Cola sign with the words MILK BAR above it. I like old things, found and repurposed, which is why I watch the TV show American Pickers.
Now in its 21st season, the program follows expert “pickers” Mike Wolfe and Frank Fritz as they drive the backroads of the US, meeting folks and rummaging through their basements and barns, attics and warehouses, looking for “rusty gold” to sell in their antiques stores in Iowa and Tennessee.
It’s basically Antiques Roadshow meets Storage King meets Orange County Choppers, but also a travelogue. As you roll through the bucolic Pennsylvania hills or rumble across the Dakota badlands with the charismatic Mike and his cuddly sidekick Frank in their big white van, you begin falling for these bowerbirds.