I’ve owned a couple homes in my time. I don’t own them anymore. I don’t even think I really ever owned them, because when you get down to it, the bank footed the initial bill and I only got a couple years into the repayment plan before something went wrong.
I’m not sure I was ever meant to own a home. And now that I’m pushing old guy status, at least in a bank’s mind, it may never happen. I mean, I’d be 84 before the 30 year note would be paid off.
My first house that I actually owned was in Port Orchard. Loved that house, if only because it had a hot tub in the back. I didn’t really like the road it was on, for it was a cul-de-sac with a very steep grade, leading to my driveway, which was a reverse grade up to the garage. This presented no troubles in the good weather, but in the ice and snow, it was a bit of a heart pounder to get the cars in and out of the driveway without playing bumper cars or sliding all the way to the bottom of the cul-de-sac.
My next house almost didn’t happen. My inlaws of the day had given Michelle and I a horse pasture adjacent to their house to build on. Well, they didn’t give us the land, just Michelle. I wasn’t really part of the deal, which was fine with me, for if I had been, I’d still be stuck with a house that is waaaaay underwater on the mortgage. So it turned out well in that respect.
The house almost didn’t happen, which in retrospect, would have been even better. This was still during the building boom so the prices were outrageous for a new house, something like $200 per square foot. Since we wanted a 2,000 square foot house for the lot, that came to 400 grand, way out of our price range.
I remember coming home one day and Michelle was in tears. She couldn’t find anyone who would build a house in a price range that matched our budget, about $250,000.
Ever the knight in shining armor (hey, even in this relationship I had my moments), I told Michelle to get into the car. We drove to Ocala, or someplace like that. From my previous life in Seattle, I had known about Palm Harbor Homes. They build modular homes as well as mobile homes. They were superbly built and were affordable.
The Ocala lot of model homes lifted her spirits, but they weren’t something she would live in. So I drove right then and there to their main showroom about two hours away, just shy of Tampa. At this point, I could claim I was a knight, but I really wanted her to stop crying.
There were about 40 homes on the lot. We couldn’t find anything that we liked. Some were still out of our price range (I never knew you could make two story modulars with stone fireplaces). It was looking pretty hopeless, until we went to the other side of the lot. I guess you could call these the retirement home models, as they are made for the golden years.
Now we were getting somewhere. The first house came close. We really wanted an open floor plan with three bedrooms and an office. A pretty tall order. But finally, there it was. Our dream house. With all the options, it was still out of our price range. But after cutting a few corners, we were able to swing the deal.
The house was built at the company’s factory. Unlike a mobile home, a modular home is permanent. They roll it there on wheels true, but then it’s set on a concrete brick foundation and bolted down. You can’t move it after it’s put together. Basically, it’s a real house that is assembled elsewhere, right down to the 2×4 studs in the walls.
I had saved the day. Even though I didn’t really want another house (I had just given the last one to my ex), I went along with everything. As we all know with houses, there’s all these hidden costs in getting one. We were just too inexperienced to know about them.
Getting the house to the lot was half the fun. The three pieces it came in wouldn’t fit down the road as a large oak was arching over it, as oaks in the south are prone to do. Finally, the neighbor let us cut through his yard. Otherwise we would have had a house, a yard, but no way to get the two to meet.
The photo is of the back of the house arriving. The far left would become the office, the gabled part was the living room. If you’re wondering who the wheeled people are, they are my now ex-in-laws.
Now for the nickel and diming. The city inspector came out. He said we had to have a septic tank installed, above ground, which meant a $5,000 mound of dirt. We also needed a garage, which was another $10,000, along with a required concrete driveway connecting it to a dirt road. Yes, a dirt road. Oh, and then there was the last minute addition – we had to have a grass yard in the front, even though we had planned that to be a circular driveway.
Thanks to the efforts of some good friends (thanks Black Skot), we got already grown grass and rolled it out.
If you’re wondering where I was in all this, I was in Orlando still. I was still trying to earn a living in my business so I didn’t have lots of time to go out to the housienda. At last that’s what I thought the reason was. Looking back, I didn’t really give a crap about having a house in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t like Melbourne really. It wouldn’t have even made the top 20 of places I would like to live in Florida.
But that’s where my second house still stands. It will be there for eternity. Of course I had to insiste on the model that could withstand 130 mph winds. No matter how hard Mother Nature huffs and puffs, it ain’t blowing the Palm Harbor Home on Fair Point Lane down.
And sorry, no jokes about the Big Bad Wolf living there. 🙂
In the Emerald City, renting a lovely house on a cul-de-sac with a steep drive… (why does that sound so familiar?),
– Robb