3148 Dorf Drive

 

And so in 1980 we packed up a third time and moved to Moraine. This house was the newest we would ever live in; built in 1977 it also gave us 1138 square feet to spread out in. Of course by today’s standards, even for newlyweds, that’s a walk-in closet, but we were happy.

We had three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, dining room, family and laundry room and an enclosed garage. A garage is something we never had before. The first house had nothing and when we moved across the street we gained a carport. In other words, we put a roof (somewhat) over one car. When both Bob and I drove and bought cars, a one-car carport didn’t offer much protection from the elements.

We gained a deck and a fenced yard. Our schnauzer was right at home here because it was the home she was used to. The back yard with a substantial hill allowed her room to play and I could throw balls down the yard and she’d almost become airborne running to catch them.

The house was covered with olive green vinyl siding. Of course it was rustproof and would never need to be painted. Upkeep was a real plus because both of the other houses had exterior wood which required constant maintenance. Dad had our second house covered with white aluminum siding but Mom, in particular, thought it ruined the look. She loved the red-orange paint and preferred character over convenience.

We were high above the valley and to the rear, about a mile in the distance, was I-75. We could hear the roar of traffic throughout the day but it became especially loud at night. I could lie in bed and listen to semi’s powering north and south on that ribbon of concrete that transversed the width of the United States.

But between us and the highway was a ribbon of woods and in the summer the leaves on the trees muted both the view and the sound. The Great Miami River, too, threaded its way between us but offered nothing more than open space.

The neighborhood was just a few years old when we moved in and the homes were mostly targeting young families. It meant the sidewalks, which offered a safe place to exercise, was often littered with Big Wheels and similar toys. These were often far more annoying than traffic on I-75.

Many a day we walked a large loop on those sidewalks. There were no traffic concerns, at least. Sometimes we’d take Ginger with us on a leash. As a pup she pulled to the point she choked herself. Every delicious scent was just out of reach but that didn’t keep her from reaching. Walking our dog was something akin to plowing.

But eventually she learned to enjoy the stroll and we praised her and offered a treat when the leash went slack. It took some time but we both learned to enjoy a long walk – maybe a couple of times around the neighborhood.

Bob had landscaped the yard before we arrived so there was little to do in that regard. The wooden fence – and the deck, too – required staining and these were huge projects that drank gallons of stain. But the lawn was fairly small and could be easily mowed in an hour or less.

I added a small TV tower, not for a TV antenna but for a ham radio antenna. The location was perfect,; looking eastward was just sky. West was level but we were already as high in the Miami Valley as is possible to get.

Even so, it was an urban location. City lights glowed in all directions. Street lights in German Village obliterated the stars. The string of manufacturing plants along the highway glowed while third shift workers came and went. Looking south along the highway headlights beamed white; after they passed, heading north to Dayton, a beadwork of red snaked north. Only for a brief period during the wee hours of the morning did the sound soften, or when a deep snow blanketed the roadway. Sometimes we’d hear sirens and see the flashing lights through the branches of the intervening trees. Commerce ebbs and flows but it never sleeps.

So while we were happy with the house, I never quite felt the location meshed with our innate desire for isolation. None of us – the dog perhaps excepted – preferred to share space with a great many other people.

The neighbors, too, had a dog which they allowed to stay mostly outside and he barked for hours on end. To our other side, several children played from sunup to sundown. Across the street a teen blared music at all hours. Living here would do, but not for long.

As modern as the house was, the neighborhood had no gas utilities and so the obvious choice for HVAC was a heat pump. Anyone who has ever owned one knows that their heat is gentle at best (and that’s being wholly generous). Being electric, when extra heat is needed in the dead of winter, the resistive elements turn on and the electric meter is set to spinning. A heat pump is efficient and even economical in the summer but that’s about the best I can say.

And so we were comfortable three seasons of the year. And the modern insulation prevented any drafts. But we soon came to think a rural draft might be preferable.

While we endured six years there – which was nothing compared to the 35 years my parents enjoyed in Miamisburg – we were already canvassing country roads looking to see if we might find something out of the way.

© 2021 William G Schmidt