Lone Traveller
12-12-2008, 01:32 PM
Just got a private message from coach and it spurred me into action. I wrote a brief report and ending it by saying I would write more later. Life intervened and unfortunately you guys got pushed to the back, way back, burner. Some of us still have jobs (pardon my use of that curse word). Do any of you remember jobs and bosses Sorry to bring up bad memories! Anyway I attempt to make amends for my neglect now.
I really felt the Village did everything they could to get me to drink the cool aid, except actually pouring it down my throat. They set me up in the cottage closest to Lake Sumter Square and right on the lake itself. I fixed breakfast and ate outside every morning, enjoy the view quiet. Every night I walked to the square to listen to the Music. I was pleased with the caliber of entertainment the Villages puts out for free every night. Although I couldn’t help but notice, because I was standing in line, the volume of business at the bars. I would think free music is a money making proposition for the Villages.
The first day out looking at manufactured homes was a disappointment. I went out with a Villages sales rep. The houses were bad. Currently living in a manufactured home from approximately the same era I had certain expectations of what I might find. These places don’t even live up to my minimal expectation. Not only were the homes in deplorable condition, there were two or three stairs leading to every and-on room or lanai. Not a safe environment for me. The sales person was less than informed about the properties. She had no idea what I was talking about when I mentioned gray pipe. This is not a subject I would expect the average man on the street to have knowledge of, but someone reselling manufactured homes should have some knowledge of it. I ended up having to explain how to identify and the problems with gray pipe. Anybody who feels they need a primer on gray pipe can send me a private message. I don’t feel like teaching plumbing 101 here.
When I got back to my cottage I felt disappointed. I saw the Village would make a wonderful living environment for me, or anyone. On the other hand I couldn’t see any advantage in such a drastic lowering of the standards of my personal living environment. So my view of the Village as a retirement option dimmed somewhat.
The next day I had an appointment with a regular realtor. I wasn’t looking forward to it, expecting to tour homes offering the same unacceptable living conditions. Every house this gentleman showed me was equal to of better than my current home. I couldn’t believe the difference. It was like somebody divided the house, giving the Village reps crap to sell and giving the outside realtors the good stuff. I’m sure over a larger sample of properties things would even out, but that’s the way it came down with the 12 properties I look at. Once again the Villages became an attractive living option.
The next day my cousin and I aced the major hurdle to the move; my being able to get around on my own. We took out his golf cart. The results weren’t promising. The eye-hand-foot coordination just wasn’t there. I was able to jerk my way up and down my cousin’s empty street, but far too slow and erratic to be in traffic. My cousin hardly had the cart parked in the garage before I was thinking about adaptive devices. The idea that seemed the most logical was a joystick like is used on electric wheelchairs. When I got home I started researching the subject. I found a company that makes a heavy duty joystick and advertises them on their website as for golf carts. I’ve contact them twice for information and haven’t heard back. I’m also contacting rehabilitation facilities around Atlanta to see if they might have a cart.
So that where it stands: The only thing standing between me and life in the Villages is getting some wheels under my butt. I learned a long time ago that progress is never made by those fold up and die at the first sign of resistance. As a result I don’t go down without a fight. This is just going to take some time, planning and ingenuity.
I really felt the Village did everything they could to get me to drink the cool aid, except actually pouring it down my throat. They set me up in the cottage closest to Lake Sumter Square and right on the lake itself. I fixed breakfast and ate outside every morning, enjoy the view quiet. Every night I walked to the square to listen to the Music. I was pleased with the caliber of entertainment the Villages puts out for free every night. Although I couldn’t help but notice, because I was standing in line, the volume of business at the bars. I would think free music is a money making proposition for the Villages.
The first day out looking at manufactured homes was a disappointment. I went out with a Villages sales rep. The houses were bad. Currently living in a manufactured home from approximately the same era I had certain expectations of what I might find. These places don’t even live up to my minimal expectation. Not only were the homes in deplorable condition, there were two or three stairs leading to every and-on room or lanai. Not a safe environment for me. The sales person was less than informed about the properties. She had no idea what I was talking about when I mentioned gray pipe. This is not a subject I would expect the average man on the street to have knowledge of, but someone reselling manufactured homes should have some knowledge of it. I ended up having to explain how to identify and the problems with gray pipe. Anybody who feels they need a primer on gray pipe can send me a private message. I don’t feel like teaching plumbing 101 here.
When I got back to my cottage I felt disappointed. I saw the Village would make a wonderful living environment for me, or anyone. On the other hand I couldn’t see any advantage in such a drastic lowering of the standards of my personal living environment. So my view of the Village as a retirement option dimmed somewhat.
The next day I had an appointment with a regular realtor. I wasn’t looking forward to it, expecting to tour homes offering the same unacceptable living conditions. Every house this gentleman showed me was equal to of better than my current home. I couldn’t believe the difference. It was like somebody divided the house, giving the Village reps crap to sell and giving the outside realtors the good stuff. I’m sure over a larger sample of properties things would even out, but that’s the way it came down with the 12 properties I look at. Once again the Villages became an attractive living option.
The next day my cousin and I aced the major hurdle to the move; my being able to get around on my own. We took out his golf cart. The results weren’t promising. The eye-hand-foot coordination just wasn’t there. I was able to jerk my way up and down my cousin’s empty street, but far too slow and erratic to be in traffic. My cousin hardly had the cart parked in the garage before I was thinking about adaptive devices. The idea that seemed the most logical was a joystick like is used on electric wheelchairs. When I got home I started researching the subject. I found a company that makes a heavy duty joystick and advertises them on their website as for golf carts. I’ve contact them twice for information and haven’t heard back. I’m also contacting rehabilitation facilities around Atlanta to see if they might have a cart.
So that where it stands: The only thing standing between me and life in the Villages is getting some wheels under my butt. I learned a long time ago that progress is never made by those fold up and die at the first sign of resistance. As a result I don’t go down without a fight. This is just going to take some time, planning and ingenuity.