The house sits quiet, a little tired but still proud—vinyl siding sun-bleached, gutters sagging like a well-worn belt, and a front door that sticks just enough to remind you it’s been guarding this acre since the Clinton years. Step inside and the story opens up: real hardwood under yesterday’s carpet, a living room that begs for a sledge-hammer-turned-open-concept, and a kitchen with cabinets sturdy enough for a coat of paint and modern pulls. The bones are good; the cosmetics are 1995—perfect if your happy place is behind a sander or in front of a tile saw.
Head downstairs and the full basement greets you like a blank underground warehouse—eight-foot ceilings, poured concrete walls, and a sump pump that’s kept things dry through twenty storm seasons. Frame it out and you’ve got a home theater, teen hangout, or an Airbnb suite with its own private entrance through the garage. Rough-in plumbing is already stubbed; add a bath fan and egress window and you’re rental-ready.
Out back the acre opens wide—flat, mowable grass for the first 120 feet, then a gentle rise into black walnut and maple that drops leaves like free mulch every October. Bring a riding mower, a hammock, and a fire-pit ring; or bring blueprints for a second dwelling—the lot is zoned for one additional single-family home or guest cottage. City water is at the street (currently inactive but stubbed in), and a new septic would handle whatever square-footage you dream up.
The detached garage is a 24×24 ft. gift box: two bays, newer roof, 100-amp panel, and a loft platform begging to become a studio office or man-cave. Park the trucks underneath, run a heater, and you’ve got year-round workspace for carpentry, car restoration, or that side-hustle pottery kiln.
Numbers talk: comps for renovated 3-bed/2-bath homes on ¾-acre lots nearby sold last spring for $315–$330k. Pick this place up for cash in the mid-100s, drop $40–$50k in smart updates, and you’re staring at potential six-figure equity—or a cash-flowing long-term rental that covers its own mortgage if you refinance post-rehab.
And yes, the neighbor’s identical acre is also for sale—same terms, same potential. Buy both and you’ve got two acres, two houses, and a dozen exit strategies: live in one, flip the other; renovate both and sell as a package; or build a family compound with shared gardens and chicken coops.
Bottom line: if you’ve got liquid cash, a vision, and a tolerance for drywall dust, this property is a lottery ticket with a roof. Bring your toolbox, your architect, or your Airbnb designer—just bring an offer before someone else’s hammer starts swinging.
