I Made the Most of My Prime

That came to mind this morning, looking at this photo I've chosen for my desktop.  One goal this year is to get back on track with my Ruff Life story.  Looks nice, huh?  I was in my 40s; 'buff' for me; living a dream life everyone found envious (except other boaters).  Of course, like everything else, nothing is as it seems, so if you're interested in how I managed to be in this scene, you're welcome to read Ruff Life at Sea, my other blog.

I've been busy following the shock of being told I have to move, fast, (that story's here).  At first the homeowner thought March/April; now they're trying to sell the property by the end of the month, and damned if it's not the short month.  So I hastened my search, and last week found an RV with a layout I like. 

This 2016 Wildwood travel trailer, at 27-feet, is larger and newer than I'd been looking for but not too much over my budget.   The guy from the Consignment lot printed out a paper for the banker with the NADA, low and high prices, everything up front.  Months ago when I'd inquired about a pre-qualified loan in case I found an RV and had to act quickly, I was told NO because I hadn't had an auto loan in the past 5 years.  However, I'd likely qualify for a $10- or maybe even $20,000 loan for 7-15 years, and I believed him.  I kept the little scrap of paper with scribbled numbers within arm's reach for months.

I grabbed the titles to my car and current RV, bank account numbers and balances, and even put on some makeup, at least above mask-level.  But I fell into a family trait of chattiness and made a fatal slip:

I mentioned I LIVE in my TRAILER.

"Oh, no, no, no...  We can give you a mortgage for a home or mobile home, but not an RV.  I went over that with my boss the other day."

So I'm not the only one.  "What about a personal loan?"

"You can't live in the RV."

"But I thought, with a personal loan, that I don't need a reason."

"You don't, but if you want a secured loan you'll have to have full insurance on the vehicles," (a 2004 Volvo and 1992 Winnebago, would you have full coverage?) "Then we'll have to have them appraised..."

1992 Winnebago Warrior 21'

Nothing else he said registered as the room started spinning like during my Section 8 search.  I found something, yet again, and was in fear of it slipping through my fingers, yet again.  I thought I was stronger but my guts began dissolving.  For three or so years I've been cleaning up my credit rating to a number similar to a Boeing jet. I'd saved for non-existent Section 8 apartment deposits (and furniture, remember, I live in an RV); all that's a bust now, but at least it was the impetus to do what needed doing.

"Forget it, I'll beg from my friends.  You know, I really thought you people would help me.  I get that I'm not supposed to live in an RV, but kids aren't supposed to grow up in cars, either."

If it's a fight, then it's not right for you, Mom's teaching rang inside my head.  But come on, already!  I fought the temptation to give up and began sending S.O.S.'s. to loved ones, who came through like real troopers.

It was grueling, again, waiting for the checks to arrive before someone else showed up with the cash before me.  But if it IS sold, I told myself, at least you'll already have the cash to make an offer for something else.  Yeah, but I really like the back-kitchen, and in mine there's also a small window out back.  It's a nice, bright, 'Great Room' since it's got that one slide.  It's so much fancier than my '92, I'm constantly tickled by options which are probably quite basic by now.

I ran to the lot and told the owner my story.  As soon as I mentioned the live in the RV  part, he put his hand to his head and apologized, he should have mentioned.

"Not your fault.  I should have known better, but I was so scared of letting it slip about the family selling the property; who's going to give me a loan when I'm about to become homeless? But you've gotta admit, I've got great friends."

I made my offer; two thousand less than the asking.  "I'm broke; that's everything, except for titling (registration paid until 2024).  I'm not asking my friends for a penny more, so if he doesn't agree I'll have to find something else.  Unless he makes a counter," I couldn't believe my words, but I did want to leave a door open.  And I do still have my Winnebago to sell, write with inquiries.

"I'm not sure he'll go for it but I'll ask."  I said I'd poke around the RV while he did.  The storage cabinets were even larger than I'd remembered.  When I returned to the office Mike had a stone-face when I asked,

"So what did he say?"

Pause for effect.  "He said, Yes,"  expressed surprise, and gave a big smile while he watched my Happy-Dance.

So I have a new home and will post more photos after I get them out of the camera.  This little cabinet was built by my late husband, Tino, and has been cared for in a friend's home for years, waiting 'Until you have your own place.'  I can't fit other furniture still in other homes, but this one holds the most significance, and it's enough.  Besides, I'd just have to get rid of it all, or else someone else will, and I learned long ago that things have lives of their own.  Once I get my stuff out of storage in 'Jersey, I'll hang the oil portraits Tino painted of us above this. Makes me smile, remembering.

Now all I need is to find some place to park it, but one hurdle at a time. At least half the battle's been won.  Worst case scenario I put it in storage and take off with the teardrop, still a plan, but now that I've got it I can't wait to live in it.  Oh hey, I forgot to mention I finally hooked up the teardrop to my car (after almost 2 years) and even drove it up the driveway  Very easy to forget it's there because it doesn't weigh much and can't be seen from either side mirror, unless I'm turning.  It's only 4'x6', I don't know why I was so scared.

My new home is also very lightweight, only 4500 pounds and so can be towed without using a Monster Truck.  A friend towed it to my current location, where I'm racing to finish transferring my stuff while the weather's been cooperative.  It's lots of fun yet lots of work, and by the time I finish in the late afternoon I can hardly move.  I'm not in my 40's any more; I'd never manage living on a boat for more than a few days now. 

So I look at my Desktop photo and remind myself how fortunate I was to have made the most of my Prime.  That floating School of Hard Knocks in the Caribbean definitely helped prepare me for this life.  I may still be a Starving Artist and Author, but at least I have a home.

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