From the Vault: The Deed

By Eilene Lyon

While in college, I had a job as night auditor for Hyatt Regency in Columbus, Ohio. One night, a co-worker seemed rather grumpy.

“What’s up with you, Cindy?”

“It’s my birthday.”

“Uh. Happy birthday? You don’t seem too thrilled about it.”

“I promised myself I’d have my second house by the time I turned 25,” she groused.

“You have a house?!”

That was the first time I’d met a woman close to my age who not only owned her home, but intended to be a real estate investor. And she worked the same place I did. Something fractured in my brain.

Not long after, I moved to Durango, where the economy was depressed and so were housing prices. I managed to get work, though. After a few years, I’d convinced myself that I really was capable of making a living and supporting myself.

I was ready to quit paying rent and start building equity. I had $200 in the bank. Time to shop for a house.

Correction: I had $200 in the bank and a 60-month loan on a brand new 1988 Honda Accord. Plus a dog and a couple cats (many vet bills and extra mouths to feed).

Call the Realtor! (Call me an optimist.)

There were a lot of properties on the market but slim pickings at the low end of the price scale. Still, we doggedly looked at a fair number. When I saw this hunter-green gem with the hideous 70s orange shag carpet (smelling strongly of cat piss), located on the edge of the mesa overlooking the Animas River, I was sold.

The house was originally a garage for the house next door, expanded to have a bedroom, bath, kitchen, and spare room. Poorly constructed, with hideous interior finishes. A deck on the west side with glorious views. The property encompassed 1.7 acres and even had a barn! Perfect. Time to make an offer.

As I’ve hinted, it was a buyer’s market. I convinced my Grandma Halse to loan me $2,000 toward the down payment (that was a hard sell – she was still miffed I’d moved to Durango), and of course I paid her back with interest. The seller agreed to two balloon payments on the down, and seller financing.

When it came time to make my first balloon payment six months later, I borrowed on my credit card, worked my ass off to pay it back; rinse and repeat. Eventually, I rolled it over to a traditional bank loan. My mortgage payments were always lower than local rents. And the place was mine to do with as I pleased. More dogs and cats!

I thought it would be my forever home, but then the unexpected happened. I got married (at 37). I kept the house a couple years, renting it out, but eventually sold it for a nice profit and invested in other real estate.

Thank you, Cindy, for the inspiration.

Feature image: Deed of Trust from my bank refinance. I felt like a “real” grownup after paying off the seller’s note.