The trend of building homes using non-traditional materials, including buses, tiny houses and shipping containers, continues to grow in popularity.
These unique and affordable alternatives offer the same level of comfort and plenty of customization options. But Jo Ann Ussery pioneered this trend long before it became a thing.
After his home in Benoit, Mississippi was destroyed in 1993, he embarked on a unique adventure transforming an old Boeing 727 into a beautiful, fully functional home.
From tragedy to triumph
Ussery’s journey began when her husband died unexpectedly, leaving her and her two children in need of a new home. Facing financial difficulties, he initially considered the purchase of a trailer as a solution.
But he soon realized that he couldn’t afford to buy a house big enough to accommodate his growing family. Then Ussery’s father-in-law, Bob, an air traffic controller, suggested the unusual idea of living in an airplane.
Intrigued by the concept, Asseri went to see the Boeing 727 disassembled and fell in love at first sight. fatty? It’s only 2,000 won including shipping. Ussery was inspired by Donald Trump’s personal Boeing 727 and named his new acquisition “Little Trump”.
With determination and creativity, Usseri began the important task of transforming the aircraft into a unique and comfortable home. With $30,000 (the equivalent of about $60,000 today), he began a project that would require a significant time and financial investment.
My Cousin Brags about Her ‘Achievements’ Despite Owing Me $5,000 – I Thought About Taking Action, but Karma Took Care of It for Me
When my cousin crashed our rental car, leaving me with a $5,000 bill, I spent months trying to get her to pay me back. Just as I gave up, I saw her flaunting her ‘success’ on social media and discovered I wasn’t the only one she owed. Karma caught up to her, and I got a front-row seat!
It’s been a year since that disastrous West Coast holiday, and I still feel the sting of that $5,000 debt. My cousin Debra, who’s supposed to be an accountant, racked up a huge damage charge on our rental car and then had the audacity to act like it wasn’t her problem.
It was under my name, so guess who got stuck with the bill? That’s right, me. Lisa, the ever-reliable project manager from Boston. I swear, some days I think my middle name should be “Doormat.”
I remember that holiday like it was yesterday. Seven of us cousins decided to get together for some “family bonding” out on the West Coast.
Debra was there, of course, with her charismatic charm and reckless attitude. One evening, she decided it would be a fantastic idea to drive the rental car down a narrow, winding coastal road at night.
The air was crisp, the moonlight casting eerie shadows as she sped along the road, ignoring my pleas to slow down.
“Come on, Lisa, live a little!” Debra laughed, her voice filled with reckless glee.
She cranked up the music and took another swig from her bottle. I clutched the seat, my knuckles white.
“Debra, please, you’re going too fast!” I yelled, my heart pounding.
She just laughed harder, taking a sharp turn way too quickly. My heart stopped as the car skidded toward the edge, tires screeching.
I thought we were all going to die that night, but the guardrail saved us. The impact when we slammed into it was jarring, leaving us all stunned and the car a complete wreck.
The holiday mood? Completely ruined.
When the rental company slapped a $5,000 damage charge on the car, Debra just shrugged.
“We’re family,” she said with a flippant wave of her hand. “We should all pitch in.”
The other cousins mumbled vague agreements.
“Maybe we can split it evenly,” suggested Jimmy, the peacemaker of the group.
“Split it? Are you kidding? I wasn’t even in the car,” retorted Martha, crossing her arms.
“I can’t afford that right now,” mumbled Jake, avoiding eye contact.
Leave a Reply