Storage Wars, and the battle for random contents of unpaid storage units, comes to Monterey.

Three men stand around a pickup truck filled to the brim with what appear to be random objects. A child’s bicycle, chairs, a lamp. It’s all meticulously tied down, not quite resembling a robbery but also not suggesting a move.

“Looks like you made out pretty well up in Morgan Hill,” says one, peering into the truck bed with his hands in his pockets, sorting through the contents with his eyes. The truck owner surveys his mess through a pair of round glasses and lets out a sigh. “It was good enough,” he says. “I think they’ll have some good stuff here,” nodding toward the front door of a facility near the Monterey Regional Airport.

David Yant, the youngest of the trio, stands by quietly with his arms crossed over his faded Oakland A’s T-shirt. His gaze doesn’t move from the contents of the pickup. Neither thieves nor nomads, these men are treasure hunters, and they’ve come to bid on a handful of lockers that will be auctioned off at the 21st Century Storage Facility on Airport Road.

“I quit my job at UPS after 25 years to do this full-time,” Yant says. “Since then, I’ve bought over 200 lockers and haven’t lost [money] on one.” He looks down at the A’s T-shirt he’s wearing; it came from a storage locker.

“Sold! For about the price of that tire.”

“I’m not attached to the stuff in there, and I’m pretty flexible about what I sell,” he says. “Some people are looking for something specific.” He motions to one of his compatriots: “Henry over there, he likes gold.”

The auctioning of self-storage lockers wasn’t well known by the public until the A&E program Storage Wars became popular. While Storage Wars follows a handful of colorful characters, people all over the country follow these auctions hoping to make some extra cash, or even hit it big.

In California, when a person fails to pay for the use of their storage locker, the owner can legally auction off the contents of that locker once they’ve taken the steps outlined in the California Self-Service Storage Facility Act – sending a notification by mail and giving tenants at least 14 days to respond.

Yant is among the dozen or so people gathered on a fall afternoon to bid on the contents of unpaid storage lockers in Monterey. An auctioneer wearing a bright orange shirt, headset and fannypack-type speaker steps out of the storage facility, and hopeful bidders appear from their respective corners of the parking lot.

As they gather, the auctioneer lays out the rules: After a locker is opened, bidders may look inside but cannot enter the space or touch the contents. All bids are cash only and must be paid immediately. Since the original lock has been removed, bidders must bring their own lock to secure their new acquisition. Lastly, all contents must be removed within one week, freeing up the unpaid unit to be rented out to someone new.

The bidders file inside the facility to view the belongings up for grabs. Each time, an employee slides the metallic red door upward, revealing something different. The auctioneer’s voice crackles over the speaker resting just below his belly.

He calls out the opening bid on a locker that contains a broken weedwacker, a blue Igloo cooler and a Modelo bottle: “Fifteen dollars, I’m fishing for a bid here!”

Another locker with a single tire, pink teddy bear and a number of trash bags goes for $200. “Sold!” the auctioneer says, “for about the price of that tire.”

A third locker goes for $80 to a middle-aged woman and her husband. “I just wanted an excuse to come back to Monterey for dinner,” she says.

The group is ushered outside to behold the grand finale of today’s auction. Shielding the sun from their eyes, everyone looks upon the largest unit of the day, measuring in at a whopping 15-by-20 feet. There is a subtle spike in excitement: Could it be that big break, or is it just a garage-sized heap of trash?

The familiar sound of metal sliding on metal breaks the silence. The door goes up, revealing boxes – and more boxes.

They’re probably filled with belongings, and some could be valuable, but not a single item is visible outside the brown cardboard shells. They are stacked top to bottom, back to front, filling the entirety of the locker. The group pauses in disbelief. There is no need for a closer look with a flashlight, as they’ve done at some previous stops.

Despite the mystery lying behind door number four, Yant and his friends who’d been admiring the pickup truck haul from Morgan Hill jump into action when the bidding starts at $200. Yant taps out at $1,500. The two others trade bids back and forth until one can’t keep up, leaving the man with the pickup truck as the proud owner of the anonymous boxes for a cool $2,100.

“That’s a wrap,” says the auctioneer. “See you next time.”