Chapter 14: Impetuosity

The property’s long axis is parallel with the asphalt county road and access is by a perpendicular mile long clay and gravel road between. A square mile of cotton fields insulates me from traffic noise on the blacktop. Their isn’t much traffic, it isn’t a major artery. The other side of me is dense piney woods I know nothing about.

The beginning of my new property is the parking approach and extends 600 ft from the access road to the scale gates. In total, the hundred acres the town sold me is 835 ft wide and 5,217 ft deep.

Unfortunately, it looks like a dump and until recently it was. Most of it is raw graded baked clay topfill. Until it rains. Then it’s quagmire. It cost me every cent I had and I’m in debt. My land payment is five hundred and fifty dollars, every month for the next twenty years. Includes escrowed estimated property taxes. It’s my job to make the investment pay for itself. Somehow.

What possessed me to buy it? What was the attraction? Several things, some practical, others aesthetics, and mostly a premonition.

Mr Moses is my mentor and guide in my business affairs. He tells me quotes and anecdotes that have both obvious and hidden lessons.

One he told me, was about a mythical wager, where the prize was one grain of corn on the first square of a checkers board, then doubled each sequential square.

There ain’t enough corn in the world to meet the final sixty-fourth square’s required tally. He says.

We were discussing population in the future and how land values will be affected. If population were to double every decade, from a quarter full to max would only require twenty years. Coincides with the longevity of my indebtedness. Moses predicts my hundred commercial zoned acres will be worth millions by the time I’ve paid it off. I hope he’s correct.

One of the practical attractions is the old mechanical beam scales. Antiques, but they’ll last for ever and are simple to recalibrate. Perfect for a junk yard. I like junk for repurposing. Attracted to it.

One of the aesthetics of the property, is it’s remoteness and inherent sound insulation. Three noisy businesses that incur complaints if they’re not remote, are juke joints, race tracks, and shooting ranges. I intend to have all three. Juke joint in front, drag strip in the middle and a go-kart track for kids. Way back yonder, a shooting range. I’m considering a drive-in theater but there’s not much profit in it.

Also, I’m planning DIY storage units, with parking for boats, trucks, farm machinery, and trailers storage. I’ll rent space in flea market pavilions, and I already have my first pavilion with attached office. A used car parts emporium will be the prime, the queen enterprise.

My first storage customer’s equipment, is already arriving. Coming in on flat cars, then driving from the train depot out here by road.

Mr Mose must be saving a ton of money renting with me, to defray the costs of all this rail freight to ship it here. I believe I may have quoted slightly too small a rent?

“Very generous indeed Ricky. Might I have two display lots, one either side of the fence?”

“Only for you, Mr Moses.”

Damn! I gave away the store. More exact, the storage. I was over anxious to have some income started. Damn my impetuosity!

“Here’s the first month’s rent, Ricky.”

A farm tractor is parked out front, hitched to a long low flat top double axle trailer, maybe thirty feet in length.

“Wow! My own tractor and trailer!”

“Just the trailer, Ricky. Might come in handy bringing in wrecked cars, you think? If you want it, where do you want it?”

Park beside the outbound scales just inside the fence. Yeah, I need it.

“And cash.” Mr. Moses proffers me a twenty dollar bill. I take it. Ideal? Better than a poke in the eye. I’ll make out with that trailer. It’s a junk getter and an income producer! My kind of equipment.

I need customers and to attract them, I need to advertise.

Where? Think!

Cleaning out the scale master’s office, to make it MY office, I sort through the stacks of magazines. Must of been a boring job at times. Most of the reading material is obsolete news and trash. The porno, skin mags, and Playboys, I set aside for later study. A real treasure find is a Motor Trends booklet, published in 1954, entitled “Manual of Building PLASTIC CARS 75₵”. Inside, one of the articles is about DIY fiberglass construction and mold making. Car bodies, sure, maybe someday. I’m more interested in the fiberglass application for making canoes skins More profit potential servicing trot-line crabbing.

Some of the architectural junk, I’ve already repurposed. A shack, post and beam construction with a simple gravel floor, is sheathed entirely with old doors, even the roof. Several of the roof doors I leave open-able, to let heat escape on hot days. Old floor joists and cinder block risers, create heavy duty shelving lining the walls. I loaded the hundred plus electric motors on the shelves. There is room in there for the paints, too. The trough top table, I center in the floor area, as a catchall. The giant ball of string, I install in a built from salvaged windows, windowed cabinet next to the office.