Chapter 18: I Found a New Home
Chapter 18: I Found a New Home
What exactly were dogs thinking when they chose to trust humans?
People could barely trust one another as it was.
That puppy was the same. Why had it crawled up beside me while it was half-dead from dehydration? It had never even seen me before.
Well, whatever the reason, I decided to do everything I could to repay its completely unfounded trust.
Who knew?
Maybe one day it would repay the favor.
The memory was vague, but I was sure there had been an old Korean folktale I saw as a child with that kind of story.
Although in that one, I thought it had been a magpie or a swallow rather than a puppy.
In any case, my original plan to commute from a caravan park was canceled.
I could live with a dog there if I paid an additional fee, but the environment was too poor.
There was almost no indoor space, and if I kept the dog tied outside all day, there would be nowhere for it to escape Arizona’s scorching sun and blowing sand.
On the other hand, continuing to live in a motel like the one I was staying at now would cost far too much.
Many motels did not allow dogs either.
In the end, the best solution I could think of was to rent a proper automotive workshop where I could live together with the dog.
In the United States, small rental properties like these were often handled through direct private arrangements, so I had to search listings and inspect them myself.
Going through a Realtor would only add commission fees, and since rentals at this scale did not generate much profit, many agents did not bother handling them in the first place.
“The rent is nine hundred fifty dollars a month. One month’s rent for the security deposit.”
The first place I visited was a single-bay garage on the edge of Tucson.
The location was decent, and the size was roughly fifteen by thirty feet, about 450 square feet.
The owner said properties like this rarely became available, but the previous tenant had moved out in a hurry.
Judging by the automotive oil stains on the floor that had not even fully dried yet, that explanation seemed believable.
The electricity works fine, and while it isn’t spacious, there’s enough room to install a lift.
If I wanted to seriously enter the restoration and customization business, an automotive lift was essential, so I needed to consider that space in advance.
The owner also seemed decent, and there was nothing in particular to criticize.
That was precisely the problem.
There was nothing lacking, but there was also nothing that strongly attracted me.
“I’ll look at a few more places first and get back to you.”
I still had several more listings to inspect.
For now, I added this one to the candidate list and moved on.
When choosing property, the more places you saw, the clearer your standards became.
The second place I had found online made me want to turn around the moment I saw it.
There was no major problem with it.
It was simply too cramped.
It was a warehouse in an industrial complex, the kind of place commonly called an industrial unit.
The neighboring units were extremely close together, and many people passed through the area.
The monthly rent was $650.
The price is good, but I don’t think I could live here with the puppy.
If I grabbed a place like this just because it was cheap, I might only end up paying moving expenses twice later.
I passed without hesitation.
Only one more property remained that I could sign for in the near future.
If that one is bad too, I’ll go with the first warehouse.
Without expecting much, I drove toward the address.
This time, I had to go quite far outside the city.
About twenty minutes after leaving town and driving along the road, I spotted an old metal warehouse standing alone in the middle of a quiet, wide-open field.
A potbellied man wearing a baseball cap, apparently the owner, was waiting in front.
“Hello. I’m Jason. I called a little while ago.”
“Jason? I’m James.”
After we briefly shook hands, the man waddled over and opened the warehouse door.
“It’s twenty-five by thirty feet, around 750 square feet. It used to store farm equipment, so there’s some dirt inside, but it shouldn’t cause any problems.”
Just as he said, dried mud and small stones were scattered across the floor and stuck to the walls.
Still, the warehouse had a sturdy concrete floor and a high ceiling that gave the space a pleasantly open feeling.
There’s even a small bathroom, and he said it has 240-volt single-phase service...
(Translator’s Note: 240-Volt Single-Phase Power — North American workshops commonly use 240-volt electrical service for higher-demand equipment such as large compressors, welders, vehicle lifts, and other machinery, while ordinary household outlets generally supply 120 volts.)
If I was going to install a lift, run a compressor, and eventually do welding, 240-volt power was essential.
The drainage was not particularly fast, but it seemed more than adequate for automotive work.
“Would it be all right if I installed a lift? I’d have to anchor it into the floor.”
“If you need one, install one. The slab is thick enough.”
The man answered indifferently.
“I might also make noise at night from hammering or welding.”
“Hah. Young man, look around you. Do you see anyone nearby who’s going to complain about noise?”
He had a point.
There was nothing around us except barren blowing sand and tumbleweeds rolling wherever the wind carried them.
“As long as you don’t fall behind on the rent, I don’t care about any of that. I would prefer a lease of at least six months, though. Showing the warehouse to people every time it becomes vacant is work too.”
The monthly rent was $800.
The location was somewhat remote, but the warehouse was vastly larger than the previous two options.
The property’s zoning was also classified as Light Industrial, not agricultural, so there should be no problem operating a restoration business here.
“I just have one last question. Would it be all right if I lived here with a dog while working on cars?”
“A dog? Do whatever you want. Coyotes might show up around here, though, so get yourself a gun.”
The man had looked annoyed by practically everything from the beginning.
But that complete lack of interest in what I did was actually the perfect match for me.
I mentally went through my checklist one item at a time.
A large space.
Electricity and water.
More than anything, I like how wide and quiet the land around the warehouse is.
I could picture the puppy wandering freely around the area, sniffing the dirt while I worked on cars inside.
There are a few things that need fixing, but that’s why it’s cheap...
After spending three years working as a construction laborer, basic repair work was hardly difficult for me.
“Good. Let’s sign the lease right now.”
“Oh, right now?”
The man’s previously dull expression immediately brightened.
“Yes. Here’s eight hundred dollars for the rent and another eight hundred for the security deposit. Sixteen hundred total.”
Private rental agreements conducted without an agent were very simple.
You filled out a standard Lease Agreement and paid the first month’s rent and the security deposit, usually equivalent to one month’s rent.
The entire process could be finished in about fifteen minutes.
“Ahem... The lease officially starts next month, but if you want, you can use the place starting today. Everyone starts out struggling in a place like this when they’re young. It’s none of my business, but whatever you’re trying to do, give it your best shot.”
Contrary to his blunt first impression, the owner turned out to have a surprisingly humane side once he had been paid.
“Yes. Thank you.”
After his truck drove away, kicking up brown dust, I looked down at the warehouse key he had given me.
The smooth, polished brass-colored metal glittered in the sunlight.
I actually rented a warehouse.
Only a few days ago, I had not even imagined starting a business, much less settling down in one place.
I could not tell whether life was naturally this unpredictable or whether my own life simply had unusually violent ups and downs.
Still, now that I was holding the key, I felt strangely unsettled, as though something genuinely new was beginning in my life.
However, this was not the time to indulge in idle sentiment.
Signing the lease was not the end.
It was the beginning.
First, I handled the post-lease tasks that could be done over the phone.
Ring, ring—click!
“APS, Arizona Public Service. How may I assist you?”
(Translator’s Note: Arizona Public Service (APS) — A major Arizona electric utility. Its origins date to April 29, 1886, when a predecessor enterprise was founded during Arizona’s pre-statehood period. APS describes itself as Arizona’s largest and longest-serving energy provider.)
“Yes. I’d like to connect electric service at a new address. My name and address are...”
First, I opened an account for electricity service.
Hmm. This company has good reviews for waste oil collection.
I contacted a local waste oil collection company called Safety-Kleen that I had found online and arranged for a dedicated drum and regular pickups.
(Translator’s Note: Safety-Kleen — A real North American industrial and environmental services company. Safety-Kleen was officially incorporated in 1963 and developed around a service model involving parts-cleaning equipment, solvent servicing, and later broader recycling and waste-management services.)
Since used oil had resale and recycling value, the agreement included free rental and collection of a fifty-five-gallon drum, roughly two hundred liters.
I also needed to register the automotive restoration business and apply for a vehicle sales license, but those steps could not be completed until the official warehouse lease start date.
This was my first private business, and since I had to handle everything alone, I needed to take careful notes and work through each task one by one.
Fortunately, a Reddit user had written a detailed post explaining the administrative procedures and tax payment process required to operate an automotive restoration business.
(Translator’s Note: Reddit — An online community and discussion platform launched in 2005. It developed around user-created communities organized by topic, making it a common source of practical guides, personal experience, technical discussions, and niche professional information.)
It said taxes could be filed retroactively with next April’s return. Then have I taken care of all the basics for now?
Of course, I still had to move out of the old warehouse.
But calling it a move was an exaggeration.
All I had to do was load the tools my father had left behind into the truck.
I would need to buy the automotive lift and welding equipment new anyway.
Whatever else comes later, I need to deal with these walls and this floor before bringing anything inside.
The warehouse had been properly emptied, but it was obvious that no one had maintained it for a long time.
Simply walking through the interior caused the dirt and dust accumulated on the floor to rise in pale clouds like fog.
Rrrrrr—
First, I fully opened the roll-up door at the front of the warehouse to air out the stale interior.
Then I tried sweeping the floor with an old broom someone had left behind.
“...This isn’t going to work.”
There was clearly no chance ordinary sweeping would be enough.
In the end, I changed plans and decided on a full wash-down.
I went to a nearby hardware store and bought a galvanized metal bucket, a hose, and a deck brush.
“All right. Shall I give the warehouse a proper ‘bath’?”
Whoooosh—
First, I sprayed water across the walls and floor to soak the fossilized layers of dirt, sand, and unidentified stains.
After about fifteen minutes, once everything had softened enough, all that remained was endless scrubbing.
Scrub, scrub, scrub, scrub, scrub, scrub.
The quiet sound of the brush echoed inside the warehouse standing alone in the middle of an empty field.
Sweat poured down my entire body like rain, and reddish-brown dirty water flowed around my feet like a river.
The strange thing was that although my body was completely exhausted, my mind had never felt clearer.
If anything, I felt refreshed.
Is it because this is going to be my “home”?
Splash—
After one final rinse with clean water, the warehouse cleaning was more or less complete.
It had taken four full hours.
Crack, crack—
When I straightened my back after being bent over the entire time, the joints and muscles throughout my body screamed in protest.
“Whew. Still, it looks good.”
Anyone else might have laughed, but when I looked at the clean warehouse floor gleaming before me, it felt as though all the pain in my body melted away like snow.
The tools can go here. The restoration cars would fit perfectly in this area. And that corner in the back can be the rest section.
Now that I no longer had to worry about dust, I freely walked around the warehouse, imagining different layouts in my head.
In the United States, it was surprisingly common for people to practically eat and sleep inside workshops or warehouses like this.
Strictly speaking, “living” there was illegal.
However, as long as I did not install a kitchen, shower, or permanent bed, it could be considered “resting” rather than residential occupancy, which meant there would be no problem.
I can get a gym membership nearby and shower there while getting some exercise too. All I need here is a cot and a microwave, and it’ll be perfect.
I had never owned a home since becoming an adult.
And during my time in the SEALs, sleeping outdoors had been standard whenever we went on operations.
Compared to that, this place felt excellent.
There was running water.
Electricity.
A roof to keep out the rain.
And no need to worry about enemies or animals getting inside.
To me, it was a perfectly adequate home, one that did not lose out to any ordinary house.
I wonder whether the little guy is doing better.
As I looked around the warehouse that would become my new home, I suddenly wondered about the still-unnamed puppy at Karen’s veterinary clinic.
Come to think of it, I did not even know its sex yet.
I roughly wiped the sweat from my face and arms with a towel, then immediately drove my truck toward Karen’s clinic.
I was going to pick up a puppy whose sex, name, breed, personality, and future relationship with me were all still completely unknown.