One year ago today: WIP 2015, Schntizelbank.
Five years ago today: WIP 2011, 28 hours per quart.
Nine years ago today: February 9, 2007, four sets of ratchets.
Random years ago today: February 9, 2008, getting ready for 2016’s bubble.
First of all, happy birthday little red scooter. Y’day was seven years. Far beyond all projections, it is still in daily use. That’s one of the best $655 I ever spent. Just over 3 cents per mile in the long run to buy, although I’ve had my times of grief over repairs on that puppy. The remainder of the day is not so cheery. Here’s the tale from the trailer court for today, in semi-chronological order:
We parked in front of Glady’s on Main Street, both of us half-starved with biscuits and gravy on the brain. See the tiny sign in the window. Closed February 9. How did they know I even skipped supper last night so I’d be famished when I arrived on that date? It’s uncanny.
But this gave us extra time to plan and plot. We drove on to Lake Placid and found a rather excellent diner in the old downtown. If you are nice, I’ll post a picture later today, but for now I need to explain something you may not agree with. Then again, this blog does not solicit or need approval, it lets you make your own mind. Say, have you ever noticed other blogs hate it when you do that? Anyway, now to explain.
We are looking for a steal, not a deal. This is not the time or place to discuss ethics, I live in a world where a lucky few get houses for free and the rest have to spend 30 years buying one. How they go about buying it is out of my control. It is when they have to sell that I become interested. And today was no different except in one major aspect, which I will tell you about.
When you begin to play the game to win, you find out quickly that real estate is not a field which attracts the nation’s finest. Today we encountered one of the more shifty individuals, and like others of the same stripe, he considers himself a successful and reputable operator. Here is a picture of the premises viewed today, a nearly 500 mile round trip for JZ. You may recognize the structure from y’day’s picture.
We found there was a roof leak, and more importantly, the electrical service had been suspended when the tenants were caught bypassing the electric meter. This is important, and I shall explain.
In Florida, the power company comes out and yanks the meter. But they will not reconnect service unless the entire electrical, not just the meter stand, passes a code inspection. This is a minimum of $2,600. The seller, a crusty old German guy, tries to tell us over the phone that all that is required is “$180 worth of wire”.
I suggested he should have spent that much money and gotten it fixed before he told us the place was livable. He said he was “too old” to make the repair and that all the contractors he knew that could were “too busy” to take on a “small job”. How convenient. What an ass-clown.
Furthermore, carefully cropped out of the photos were the three buildings next door. Completely run-down and dangerous abandoned buildings. JZ and I work best as a team, so we left the place and drove all the way into Winter Haven for a coffee to discuss this. Sadly, we found that Nell’s, the country kitchen you may have read about here over the years, looks like it has closed shop. The place was under renovation to what definitely does not look like another restaurant.
Wiki picture of the day.
Puffball mushrooms.
So, we found us the only other place with great coffee, the local Burger King. A few things became clear as we went over the details. Yes, the second question I had asked the guy (name of Tamme) was if the place was inhabitable and he had said, “Oh, sure”. Third question was how much did he estimate the total repairs would cost, and he replied around $3,000 in materials. Between these statements and the on-line cross-checking I did in advance, here are the conclusions.
A) The guy is a shifty operator who intentionally understated the repair costs, he kept saying it was a handy-man’s project. Not unless that handy-man was also a journeyman licensed local contractor. He kept saying he had been fixing up buildings for years and now retired. Hmmmm.
B) Whoever this guy is, he has access to what is listed on the records at the county courthouse. Somehow, he managed to buy the property for the back taxes just six weeks ago, and that was not reflected on the court records. Rather, the previous owner’s name was on the documents. How did he do that? Howdie-doo-dee?
C) His ad said he wanted to sell because the “previous tenant” had trashed the place. Did they ever, and let me tell you, they did not do that kind of damage in the previous six weeks that he owned the place. He only wanted you to think he was the long term owner, but the premises must have been in that condition when he bought it. Can you spell s-c-u-m-b-a-g?
Don’t conclude we were taken, this is not the case. The moment last August I decided to see what I could scrounge on the market, I knew quite well and fully expected we would begin to encounter the seedy underbelly of the industry. These people by any other standards are like hoodlums. This was, by our reckoning, no different than last year the guy who neglected to say the water service had been permanently disconnected (Punta Gorda). Remember that?
We concluded the place was worth only $3,500, that we could make it a go on that. However, there was also an equal amount (actually $3,498.22) in outstanding back taxes unpaid since 2012. We left without calling the guy back. Of course, he knows zero about us, even the phone calls to him were made on a blocked old cell phone registered to Donald Duck. If it is buyer beware, then we shall beware.
That’s how we found this second place shown here. JZ is glancing at the completely redone $4,000 shingling job. It’s an older building with a facelift in a sort of semi-industrial area next to a farm on the east end. But if you’d rather be robbed by a redneck than the other extreme, you’ll be quite safe in the area. There would not be too many gangs roaming the byways around there after dark.
So, for us, it is back to square one. We were on the road 11 hours, and we know damn well we need that base of operations over there. That means a place to live it while we look. We cannot afford hotels or to haul the necessary tools half-way across the state to get a place up to snuff. So, we are back to bottom-feeding, offering half-price on non-movers (listed more than 30-40 days) and hoping for the best. We are learning, but in the process grappling with shifty types who have been in the business for years. But we quickly noticed they all are shallow operators, not the Lex Luthor types at all. Each one has one tiny scam they have perfected, if you could use that term.
As we stepped outside after, there was an old couple, pushing 90, by the sidewalk. The man had fallen to a sitting position and could not get up. His wife was trying to help, but he looked a good 300 pounds. JZ’s medical training kicked in and he instantly lent a hand. But he acted instinctively and underestimated how much 300 pounds really is.
He got the guy up using leverage like you see on the TV paramedic shows, but strained his own back, shoulders, and neck. And there is no way the wife could have begun to budge him, even though she said she always helps him out of the chair at home. Well, this time he was right down on the curb. And JZ is lucky he didn’t hurt himself, I admonished him. He should have called for help.
The good news is, I suppose, well, okay, more than suppose, is that this episode happened in full view outside the obvious most popular senior’s restaurant in town and the place was full. And it was all Escalades parked out front, if you know what I'm saying. The building is fronted with plate glass windows, so everybody in the joint witnessed JZ’s spontaneous good deed. I'd say 26, maybe 30 pairs of eyes if you count the staff.
If JZ goes back by next week and runs for mayor, I think he’s in.
Last Laugh
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