I had been looking forward to it for weeks: the Clarence flea market has always been a fun way to spend a Sunday morning. But as soon as I reached the parking lot yesterday, I knew something wasn't right.

Where were all the cars baking in the parking lot? Where were all the flea vendors with their tables filled with everything from Beanie Babies to old milk bottles?

More than half of the vendor spaces were empty. And some vendors said they wouldn't be coming back.

"This economy is so bad, it's not worth the gas to get over here," said one man. "My son has been out of work for more than a year. He and the kids have moved in with us, and I was hoping I could pick up a couple hundred bucks here. But it's not going to happen today." He held up seven fingers. "I've been here for nearly four hours and that's what I've made."

The same hard-luck story was repeated again and again. Some of the vendors were loading up their trucks and calling it quits by 11 a.m. I couldn't help but think of Ma Joad's sweaty and tired character in "Grapes of Wrath."

I doubt the nation's top economists will use the Clarence flea market in their next economic forecast. But maybe they should.

Selling collectables and crafts at flea markets is one of those odd businesses that can offer a soft landing for people with limited incomes, particularly seniors. It's more than a hobby for most. The extra money is important, especially to people who don't have the skills or the physical ability to do other jobs.

How will they get by?

They say women still buy makeup, even in a bad economy. I've always found that people still buy collectibles. It tickles some primitive gene in our DNA. But this year, even those purchases seem too much to ask.

And right now, we could use a chuckle.