July 25, 2015

Yesteryear
One year ago today: July 25, 2014, what’s a “blue highway”?
Five years ago today: July 25, 2010, Shrek plugging corn syrup.
Six years ago today: July 25, 2009, a look at Etsy.

MORNING
           Here’s JZ at the park near Okeechobee this morning. It was decided to settle the questions about these “cold air ducts” once and for all, and we headed north for a few hours. We are getting to know the roadway and the preferred stops, so it is now three hours maximum for us to get out past Sebring, including the requisite stop for coffee at the Serenity in Okeechobee. So what if they were closed today. (Refers to the mysterious ducts under certain old buildings in central Florida.)

           Now this being our third trip in less than a month, we are getting sophisticated at this house hunting. Plus the trip gives us uninterrupted time to plan and I can tell you that my personal conclusion is that we will never get the bargain we seek if we play the game by the rules. I’m not advocating any law-breaking, only that tactics will not work. We need strategy.

           To make this more clear, tactics would be the policy of saving or borrowing more money until the point where an auction is won or an offer is accepted. This involves pinching every penny and borrowing every dime—which is precisely what the system wants all the stupid people in the land to do. Brainwash them that this is the “right” way to behave. But I have noticed plenty of inadequacies with that. Not every bank can cover every angle every time. And my plan to make them notice us by playing their own game has been totally accepted.
           What started as a quick trip to inspect some ducts turned into a major whirlwind tour and an unexpected auction. When the rep who was to show us the property called, she mentioned there was another auction taking place an hour earlier. This was one of those on-line auctions and I suggest to JZ we attend for the experience, since it was on the way.
           (Once again, this for the 11th time in a row, the impossible happened, which JZ says is impossible, but we did it again. With only and address and no map down a road we’d never seen before, I correctly guessed the location of the auction. I am simply incredibly lucky that way--at times.)

NOON
           This is the only picture I have of the auction, the laundry room. It was a three bedroom two bathroom that had been converted into a medical clinic (chiropractor) and was on a huge lot with a barn around back. While there is a guy in the crowd wearing a Bluetooth earpiece who is authorized to bid for those linked on-line, the rest of the auction is what you’d expect. Quite unlike the totally bastardized proceedings at the courthouse. There were no banker’s evident.

           There were plenty of professionals there, however. Husband-wife teams, a retired attorney, and what looked like the black representative of the local Baptist congregation. As soon as I saw the crowd, I advised JZ not to bid unless nobody else did, that we should closely watch only.

           And sure enough the bidding rapidly soared to $42,000 more that we were prepared to bid. By remaining silent, we did not tip our hand, a wise move in a small town. Ah, but there was one great looking lady in the bunch who refused to be railroaded by the auctioneer.
           He is also wearing a headset, but at least he is a real auctioneer. He tried to lead the bidding by asking for increments of $10,000. But the blond, blue-eyed lady held her ground, for example at $30,000 she would bid $30,100 and the auctioneer would “mistakenly” say $31,000, but she firmly corrected him each time. This was a much more exhilarating performance than the courthouse, and I’m glad JZ saw this because (although we had not done so before) he did not believe I had the right to contradict the auctioneer on increments.
           See the photo, the clinic was completely refinished on the interior. Tile floors, but the kitchen had been removed. With the odd layout, it was not clear where that would have formerly been, but there is not much to converting this back into an apartment. Now, here is where things got momentarily interesting.

AFTERNOON
           I dialed the rep at the original “cool duct” property to confirm we’d be there in driving time, and a cell phone rang in the auction room. Believe it or not, the babe doing the bidding was our lady real estate agent on the other property. Can I pick ‘em or what. Spritely, healthy, and alas, happily married. And she knew the duct work was retro-fitted modern material with an estimate of $2,800 for replacement. This put us in the running, but then, the bad news.

           Another bid for $7,000 over our maximum had been turned down yesterday. So the information we had gotten from the friendly neighbor that they would take a low price was in error. The auction experience alone was enough to make this trip incredibly worth it, so we drove up the road to the only place we really know in the area: Arcadia.
           That’s JZ on the banks of the Peace River, feeding the squirrels. Not me, I’ll feed chipmunks, but not squirrels. In the far background is a 155mm howizter and we could hear somebody target practicing with a small rifle nearby. Could have been in Texas for all it seemed. Arriving in the late afternoon, we decided to stay over and check out the entire town. Prices have bumped up $10,000 since just a month ago. No explanation forthcoming.

NIGHT
           We found a real bargain of a motel, I told people long ago my ability to speak Urdu would come in handy later in life. This is our half-price unit just before we headed out for soft drinks. Always insure you have lots of bottled drinks when staying in a strange town motel. The room included some excellent movie channels, but I preferred to read my newest Cussler novel and glance up only when John Wayne was being shot at.

           Taking my advice to never walk into a drinking establishment right on the hour, we waited until after dark to check out the “Rattler” saloon. I think the room used to be an auditorium, as it was far too big and wide to have a saloon atmosphere. It has balconies and staircases. The band, however, was overkill. They played country the way I do. That’s start off with country until the crowd is warmed up. Then play anything you want.

           Alas, a lot of what they want was old guitar hits, like “Simple Man”, a tune I singularly loathe. They were a three-piece from Avon Park and I correctly guessed they were a rock power trio to switched to country to get the few remaining gigs in the area.
           It is definitely a redneck town. JZ and I weigh nearly 400 pounds between us and we were the lightweights in that room. That includes the woman at the door, who zapped us with the $5 cover charge. Every man in the room was overweight, though some of them were strapping enough to be real bruisers. Banish any thoughts that you will go to Arcadia and see smooth-tightie cowgirls in blue jeans.

           Only three skinny women. Two were an item from Bradenton, where if you’ve heard the recent news, they have their own definition of “animal husbandry”. Only in this case, it was the “wife”. Anyway, it was evident we were again the city slickers. The bass player used a five-string and instantly picked up I knew what he was doing. The band was called “Shin Bone” and we talked bass riffs. He was over-playing a few spots, which is the tendency when you are trying to flesh out behind a guitar solo, but I’ve adopted a new approach. I wrote down some of my best riffs for him in tablature.
           By county law, the whole town shuts down at midnight. Or else.


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