Well, it’s April 1^st, 2011 and I suppose you are all sitting on pins and needle waiting to see what my first April Fools’ blog will be about. But I’m in a kind of contrarian mindset so this week is going to be the factual finale of my move to Seattle in which I detail the validation of the economic theory behind my relocation and the unexpected financial epiphany I received therefrom. 

How’s that for a prank? 

For those of you eager for some April Fools jokes and tomfoolery you’ll just have to wait for my next April Fools’ edition – in 2016. For now, on with the facts.

So, yes, there is an end to the story. Finally, really for the first time, it feels like I’ve moved. It’s not that Seattle has magically awakened my rain-soaked spirit. It’s not that “coming home” feeling when I unlock my front door and step into my gray, dismal, underground apartment. It’s just that now, after about two and a half months in Seattle, I can’t leave.

Unless I want to walk.

That’s right, after suffering with me through the purchase of my van, my trailer and my 4,500 mile transcontinental odyssey, the trailer’s gone, the van’s gone and I am wearing through shoe leather at an alarming pace. I am a pedestrian.

For a quick recap, I bought my van in Virginia at the end of October last year, loaded up my little pile of stuff when I moved off my former boat, and headed out to find a place to live. After a side trip to Costa Rica to commune with the zombies and two-week research expedition to the Pacific Northwest I settled on Seattle as my next destination.

Then back to sunny Florida I went. I picked up my new trailer, packed up my stuff, and headed west. That was December 19^th, 2010. On January 13^th, 2011 I rolled into Seattle and began my previously documented search for a place to live. My move was completed on February 1^st after a grand total of three months on the road. My van and trailer were parked empty on the street.

Which is where the story really starts. 

Because where the story ends there is a lesson to be learned: Buying things that you can’t afford, really don’t want, and don’t plan on keeping can save you a lot of money. My cheapskate-self revels in this knowledge.

When I first started researching the logistics of my move I was struck by how expensive all my options seemed to be. Just to get my little pile of stuff from North Carolina to Florida would have cost me over $600 if I could have fit it into a Rav-4. If not, the cost would have jumped to over $800. Given that my van ended up packed to the rafters I think my junk would have sunk the tiny Toyota.

Then there was fuel. This was back in the days when gasoline was still less than three-bucks a gallon. Ah, yes. The good old days. My micro U-Haul would have gotten 12 miles per gallon. It was about an 800 mile trip so the fuel would have set me back another two Benjamins. A Grand just to go from Point A to B.

Then there was going to be the move itself. Once I settled on Seattle as my destination the potential costs fell into place. I checked with a long-distance moving company. They wanted $1,500 to pick up my stuff in Florida and get it to Seattle. They couldn’t tell me when that would happen as they would need to find a load that my little pile would fit in with. Then there would be the cost of dumping it into a storage facility in Seattle and then bringing it to me when I found a place to live. That cost was open-ended but based on what movers charged per hour I guessed it would be another $500. So somewhere about $2,000 for my stuff and then I have to find my own way out. That would have meant flying – I am so not going to sit on a Greyhound for five days – and another $700. Grand total $2,700.

I looked at renting a truck from U-Haul – $1,700 plus $875 for gas. Jeez! Plus I had to complete the trip in 12 days – as opposed to the 25 days I actually took. And, if I didn’t have a place to move into as soon as I got here – which I didn’t, I’d have to store my stuff and then rent another truck to move into my new abode. There goes another $150. Add that all up and it comes to $2,725. 

Which is a number suspiciously similar to the first. My inner conspiracy theorist is thinking “collusion” at the very least. In either case, including the move from North Carolina to Florida I was looking at about $3,700, plus or minus.

So, in atypical fashion, I thought outside the box. I ended up spending a lot more money than either one of these options. I bought my van and I bought my trailer. But in the long run I ended up saving a bunch.

The van cost about $4,300 – a number which includes taxes, title, tags, insurance, four new tires and a bunch of scheduled service. I really didn’t want to break down in BF Kansas in winter. The brand-new trailer set me back about $2000 all told. I was out of pocket about $6,300 before I dropped a penny in the gas tank. That mighty expense was $965 for my 4,500 mile wander through the wilderness. Call it a thousand and make the total 7,300 bucks. 

What this vastly larger sum of money really bought me was freedom. I could set my own pace. I could stop and visit my friends along the way or camp in the van – thereby saving more than a few dollars on motels. I could take meaningful side trips to the Center of All Things and the World’s Largest Ball of Twine. I changed my cross country move from a mad dash to a pleasant journey. I ended up with some great stories, some of which have been posted here.

With my arrival in Seattle I was not under any hurry-up constraints to get a place to live so I was able to take my time and let the perfect place find me. I parked my big rig outside the urban farmstead B&B that served as my base of operations and everything fell into place without any undue pressure.

Which once again brings us to the beginning of the story: an empty van and trailer parked out front. I signed into craigslist and posted “Trailer for Sale”. I had to sell the trailer first because it’s against the law to park an unmanned trailer on the street around here. It took a few weeks but it was snapped up by a hard-working rock band which was heading out on tour. I got $1,500 for it. 

Then up went the ad for the van. It too didn’t sell right away but ended up bought by an expanding family looking to move to Texas to escape the “Seattle Freeze”. I kid you not. Their kids were oh-so-cute and had the even oh-so-cuter names of Peanut and Pecan. You really think I can make this stuff up? They had a good story and the van would be perfect for them. Out the door for $3,600.

So that makes $7,300 minus $5,100 equals $2,200 all total for my move Out West. By spending all that money up front I ended up saving fifteen-hundred bucks. Not bad. And I got to take my time. And got to visit my friends. And I got to write a bunch of stories.

Which is where it gets, as they say, interesting.

I am loathe to mention this because I think it’s going to make all of you rush out and become writers. God knows the competition might put me out of business. And business is what it’s all about. I have talked about my business plan here and on my website and have promised you full disclosure. You tree-hugging, Darwinist liberals might want to sit down for the rest of this.

Stories are my business.

Admittedly I’m not making any money writing them yet but I still don’t feel you would get your dollar’s worth. That’s going to be changing soon. At that point I will actually have some income. And of course once I have income I will have to start filing my income tax forms. But, thanks to the reactionary, conservative dominated government we’ve suffered under for the past decade, I won’t necessarily have to pay any actual taxes.

Because stories are my business.

It goes like this. When I write a story about something I not only benefit from any income that derives from that story but I benefit from all the money I spent to research and write the story in the first place. So Baby You Can Drive My Car– Ca-Ching!, the Giant Ball of Twine – Bingo!, the Zombies of Costa Rica – pure profit. Even humble Mocha, the Attack Llama and April, the Town Cow are contributing to my long-term financial well-being. All of the costs associated with my move, my dental work, airfare, food, costumes, parties, furniture, alfalfa nuggets – all of it – become tax deductible business expenses. As long as I write about it. Add to that the fact that our caring government allows me to carry forward any losses that exceed income for up to TWENTY YEARS!

As you can see, working as a writer will pretty much allow me to live for free – forever.

Which finally brings me to the end of the story. In reality, my move didn’t cost me $2,200. My van didn’t cost $4,300. I didn’t spend $200 on motels nor $300 on food. Once you factor in the tax benefits provided me by our gloriously philanthropic leaders in Washington, everything associated with my move will have cost me exactly – nothing.

Now, before you all rush out and get your ‘I’m a writer’ business cards (free), to hand out to your friends at dinner (free), and then drive off in your new BMW (free), I suggest you talk to your accountant.

And find out what the real story is.