I had the most expensive condo in Dorchester for a little while. It felt pretty good actually. I was happily breaking the real estate maxim of NOT having the most expensive property in a given town. Never mind the street. The entire town. Go big. Or go home. Or you can do both. Go big in your home. Then you are home. It suited me just fine. Nice view of the Back Bay up on my roof deck with my cold brews. I could also see my two paid off Chevys in my deeded parking spots which I created. Filed those bad boys with Suffolk Deeds after I took down a few trees and paved. I was also managing the most expensive business in Roxbury. I used to nip off to the Boston Gun & Rifle Association in Fields Corner which is also advisable if you’re going to engage in the above pursuits. The point is there is great currency in doing what you want. It makes you happy. I was sitting there in The Dot and The Berry. Life is great. Who needs BMWs and the Back Bay? And debt. Not me. Dorchester is amazing. And totally safe. At least for me! I might be armed a little bit. Lawfully, I might add. I went out to Moon Island to get my LTC from the Boston PD. I might have a little something for any would be prowlers. And I have a few black belts in the rear view should my cannon jam. And a mountain of martial arts weapons in the basement if I have to fallback during the Zombie Apocalypse. There are enough weapons down there for a Kung Fu Opera actually if you care to stage one. I was living life on my own terms is the point. Lawfully too. All my paperwork was in order. I might be armed a little bit but I am hiding nothing. It is all right there on the table. Go ahead and try to grab something. It might have been wrong according to some people. But nobody could argue with the strong piece of it. I was strong in my wrong. Even a little bit threatening. Everybody got that even my worst critics. They steered right around me. I rolled out of Dorchester with every dime plus some. I lived there for free in the final analysis. I did actually retire ALL the weapons because Booster was born. I figured I could fashion my own at this point. It’s actually kind of hard to come at real estate at a strange angle and make it humorous. Give it a little menace too. Tell an off-kilter story that somehow makes sense. The point of the above flyer contains a similar truth. People attempt to tell me a specific narrative about a town. Scituate is this. Then they say something that I do not entirely agree with like it is blue collar. I just open up a flyer on my phone. What about this? By my math that’s 15 million dollars worth of real estate right there. I’ve actually stood in all of the above houses. I’m not about a specific town on the South Shore. I like them all for different reasons. Different life stage too. But all in Wood Island in Scituate is right up there. I am talking you are a Powerball winner and you just don’t give a hoot. You are picking any spot on the South Shore with no reserve. Wood Island is definitely on the check list. Hull would also be on my personal check list. I might want to buy on Summit in Hull. Or I go big on Whitehead in Cohasset. I just don’t know. But I would ignore the Hull narrative. That’s for sure. Uncle Jo-jo got pissed about it recently. He started Humans of Nantasket to fight back. The basic gist of the Hull narrative is this: “Hull man intoxicated drives into Hingham harbor after high speed chase because he stole a pocket book off old lady playing Skee-Ball in Fascination.” It’s not to say that could not happen. However there is more than one story coming out of Hull. A lot of people are quietly raising kids. Working hard. Or just sitting in their houses enjoying the view. They are doing precisely what they want. There is a lot of that in Hull. That’s for sure. I was a teenager in Hull. Our quiet little narrative was our cars. Hull teenagers always had wheels. It was mandatory. My favorite car was Binder’s station wagon. It hailed from the 1960’s. It was a rusted out hulk in the 1980’s. It was a failed brand like a Plymouth. An absolutely terrible car. It was terrible the day it rolled off the assembly line. Twenty years in Hull did it no favors. But we loved that car. Binder-Binder which is what I called him. One name just didn’t seem like enough. Binder-Binder was so hilarious. He was like having a personal comic on call. He would come fetch me at Spinnaker Island in what we called The Rastafarian Voyager. That Plymouth Station wagon was a beaten creature that somehow managed to run. Nobody treated that car with any respect. We would take it four wheeling in Hingham up Baker Hill before it was developed. As preamble we would take The Rastafarian Voyager down to Sar 40. Sar 40 was a Chinese food restaurant. It was actually called Sar Ho but we begged to differ. There were no Chinese in Hull in the 1980’s. Not even in Sar 40. It was just some excuse for Pu Pu Platters for the Rastafarian Voyagers. I end up buying a Jeep which was a great Hull vehicle. Give me a ticket red. I drove that red Jeep for more than twenty years straight. Booster wants a Jeep “because the roof can come off when it’s hot.” That’s his reasoning which is good enough for me. I’m thinking that’s my next car. I want to get an old one too. Take it on Broker Tour to houses like the above. I’m hitting Hingham, Cohasset and Hull today. The above house has teeth. That’s why I started the article with menace and finished with humor. Peace out, peeps. I have to go run.