I chat with my friends who live in high price housing markets and I am stumped on how this works.
Do y’all mind sharing your stories?
This boomer basically sleepwalked his way into it with some hard yakka and a truckload of luck. I never intended to become a home owner. When I came to Australia I was still a schoolboy, a couple of months short of 16. Our first abode was a migrant hostel about 2.5 kilometres from Maroubra Beach. The ocean had fascinated me since we went on a holiday to the north Sea in Germany, so I took a walk down to it the day after our arrival. The weather was shit. Cold, and a stormy southeasterly blew rain into my face on my way. What I saw when I got to the north point of the beach was a revelation. A couple of boys were paddling through mushy whitewater on sticks. Then they turned around, stood up and travelled back towards the shore. This I gotta do!
And that is all I was interested in doing for the next 17 years. Jobs were easy to get, but I only ever kept any one of them for long enough to go on surf trips up and down the coast from Sydney, or to build another kneeboard whenever I broke one. I also got fired from a fair few jobs for taking too many sickies when the surf was too good to waste my time at work. I did not want to get chained to years of mortgage payments or paying off fancy cars. Life was too short for that shit.
The downside was that I was regularly short of money. Things came to a head when I was about to return to Sydney from the Gold Coast where my father lived with my stepmother at the time. My stepmother took me aside and handed me a 50 dollar note, saying "I think you could do with one of these." At the time that would have been the equivalent of a day's wages. I thanked her and thought "Yes, I'm broke again, aren't I?" It was at that point that I was sick of my hand to mouth existence to the point of putting an end to it.
Back in Sydney I found another job easily enough. I enjoyed driving and people were not all that fussed about checking your qualifications or work history at the time. All I had to do is to check the classifieds and turn up at the site of an advertiser seeking a driver 15 minutes before starting time. Once there, I told them how i drove a ute for Brearley's. a 12-tonner for Bowen's, a semi for Cook's or whatever suited the occasion. I obviously didn't tell them that half of the dozen or more of the employers fired me for taking too many unscheduled days off, or that one of them sacked me for squashing a car parked at the entrance of a wharf with the triaxle of a 41 foot trailer. Easy peasy. Nobody even asked me to show them my license.
Two years after my return to Sydney I was still driving for the same company, breaking my record by 18 months or more, and my savings account had grown to a massive eleven grand. I became ambitious. Surely, subcontracting to someone with one's own truck would pay more than driving someone else's for a wage? I checked the "truck with work" ads and wangled some finance after finding a suitable deal. It was a $12,000 loan, and to this day the most stressful financial commitment of my life.
Anyway, after a mishap (the engine blew up three months into the venture, leaving me with the princely sum of 64 dollars cash in the bank at Christmas) things went swimmingly. Two and a half years later my bank balance was burgeoning once more. 30 thousand bucks. What on earth was I going to do with all that? Just leaving it there was just stupid. Mhhhh. My landlady was OK, but her husband was a pain, and the rent kept going up. What if...?
I lived in Glebe at the time. Lovely, bohemian inner Sydney suburb with lots of second-hand bookshops, sleazy pubs, a cinema showing offbeat movies, a couple of halfway houses with recently released heroin addicts and stuff like that. It suited me down to the ground, but unfortunately it was also in the early stages of becoming yuppiefied. The housing market was out of my price range.
But there was nearby Newtown. More affordable, and what's more, more bohemian. Dozens of tiny restaurants with menus from all four corners of the world, opportunity shops, an actual family owned and run greengrocer, and a bunch of daggy pubs with regular pub bands, one which was particularly favoured by gays sat cheek by jowl on the narrow main drag, King Street. Best of all, two fast food franchises, McDonald's and KFC tried to establish themselves there but didn't last long. Wrong demography.
Without going into much detail, I finished up buying a tiny single story two-bedroom plus study terrace on a 5 x 30 metre block of land. Built in 1890, it was in dire need of renovation (which never happened while I owned it). Getting the mortgage involved some bending of the rules, but the manager of the building society branch I dealt with was most accommodating. In the end I finished up with a $106,000 mortgage on a house 6 kilometres from Sydney's harbour bridge I bought for $154,000 in 1992. Heaven on a stick.
All things must change, though. Yuppies bought run-down terraces and spent fortunes upgrading them. One by one second-hand shops closed down, as did the greengrocer. A special day of mourning was the day Cornstalks closed for good. Then came the return of franchised businesses, KFC and McDonald's. And new ones as well, like Gloria Jeans and some fashion shops, the names of which I can't remember. Time to move out. I looked at moving to Newcastle, a once horrid coal mining city two hours north of Sydney, that scrubbed up quite nicely in recent years, but could not find an area I would feel at home in. Then I got seriously attached to someone which necessitated me moving to South Australia.
In 2005 I sold my tiny Newtown terrace for $499k and bought a rather larger, freestanding home on a 900 square metre block of land in a small city 380 kilometres (by road) from Adelaide's CBD for $280. The person who bought my terrace spent somewhere between 2 to 300k on doing it up and sold it in 2010 for just under a million bucks. It is now valued at around 2 million. I will never be able to afford to buy anything in inner Sydney ever again. Luckily, I can't think of a reason why I would want to. The ambience I so liked has been destroyed for good.