Narrator (Imagine him sipping coffee, pen in hand, watching the chaos unfold): I knew something was off the minute I sat down with him. Jason Ramshaw, the guy behind Rhino Communities, leaned back in his chair with a look on his face that screamed, ‘I’m not here for the small talk.’ He’s got this energy, you know? The kind that makes you think he’s just a second away from charging through the walls of the Starbucks we’re sitting in.
Rhino (grumbling): So, you wanna talk about mobile home parks, huh? Great. Let’s get into it. People love to talk about it like it’s some dirty little secret of the real estate world. You say ‘mobile home park,’ and suddenly everyone’s pretending they’re not looking at you like you just asked them to pick up a dead raccoon.*
Narrator: Jason’s not exactly the sugarcoating type. He’s got the kind of bluntness you can only develop from years of watching people screw things up, and he’s not afraid to show it.
Rhino: Yeah, yeah, we’ve all heard the crap. “Mobile home parks? Really? Why would you want to invest in that?” They look at you like you just told them you’re moving into a porta-potty. It’s always like that. Nobody gets it. They picture some rusty, dilapidated trailer from the 1970s that looks like it’s about to blow over in a stiff breeze, with a raccoon in the back smoking a cigarette.
Narrator: He shrugs, like he’s seen this play out a hundred times. And I believe him. If I had to convince people that mobile home parks aren’t, in fact, a dumpster fire, I’d probably develop a thick skin, too.
Rhino: And you know what’s funny? These same people — you know, the ones with their nose up in the air, talking about their condos and their townhouses — they’re the ones getting priced out of the housing market faster than you can say “inflation.” Meanwhile, guess who’s laughing? Me. The guy who owns the land under a bunch of mobile homes.
Narrator: He’s got a point. And the truth is, it’s a weird world we live in. You’ve got people mortgaging their lives away for a shoebox apartment in some city they can barely afford, while right next to them is this thriving, overlooked industry of mobile home parks. But if you bring it up at a dinner party, people act like you farted on the appetizers.
Rhino (leaning in, hands flying): Exactly! It’s insane! People will take on a second mortgage just to afford a place in a neighborhood with a Whole Foods, but tell them about a mobile home park and suddenly they’re concerned for your mental health. “Oh, is everything alright, Jason? Are things… okay at home?
Narrator (deadpan): He’s not wrong. I’ve been to those dinner parties. Hell, I’ve hosted them.
Rhino: And the funniest part? These parks — they’re making money. Good money. It’s the most recession-proof real estate you can find, and nobody wants to admit it because they can’t get past the image of the rundown trailer park from some B-movie in the 80s. And don’t get me started on the stigma…
Narrator: At this point, Jason’s doing that thing where he throws his hands up like he can’t believe he’s even having this conversation. He’s got this intense energy, like a guy who’s spent years telling people that the world is round and is exhausted from arguing with flat-earthers.
Rhino: Stigma, stigma, stigma. Everyone’s got it wrong. They picture mobile home parks as a place where people go when they’ve hit rock bottom. Meanwhile, these parks are filled with regular, hardworking people who can’t afford to pay $3,000 a month in rent for a shoebox apartment in the city. They own their homes! They have equity! But nobody wants to hear that part.
Narrator: I nod. I mean, what do you say to that? It’s like he’s explaining that water is wet.
Rhino (getting more worked up): You know what gets me? These so-called gurus. You’ve seen them. The ones who sell these seminars — “Get rich quick! Mobile home parks are the hidden gem of real estate!” Yeah, well, where are they now? Gone! They take your money, tell you it’s easy, and then disappear faster than my ex-wife’s lawyer. Meanwhile, I’m here actually doing the work, cleaning up the mess they left behind.
Narrator: He pauses for a sip of his coffee, but I can tell he’s not done.
Rhino: And don’t even get me started on the investors who roll in thinking they can jack up lot rents and squeeze every last dime out of these people. That’s not how it works. You don’t get to be the good guy in this business if you’re also the guy putting people out on the street.
Narrator: Jason’s fired up now, and it’s like watching a rhino charge — there’s no stopping it. I sip my own coffee, which, by the way, is terrible, and wait for the next wave.
Rhino: Look, I’m not saying I’m some kind of saint here. I’m an investor, too. I’m here to make money. But here’s the thing: you can make money and not be a complete *insert choice word here.* It’s about balance. We’re not here to run people out of their homes. We’re here to make these parks better. Better for everyone. Clean, safe, affordable — isn’t that what we all want?
Narrator: I imagine this is the part where someone at the table would awkwardly clear their throat and change the subject to something safer, like artisanal cheeses or cryptocurrency. But we’re already deep in it.
Rhino: But nah, that’s not what people hear. They hear ‘mobile home park,’ and suddenly they’re picturing the opening scene of a horror movie. You know, with the rusty swing set creaking in the wind, a couple of feral cats fighting over an old shoe in the background. It’s ridiculous!
Narrator**: *I laugh because it’s true. And the way Jason’s saying it, you can’t help but feel like you’ve been complicit in this weird, shared cultural myth. I mean, sure, I’ve made a few trailer park jokes in my time. Who hasn’t?*
Rhino** (pointing directly at me): *Yeah, you! I know you’ve made those jokes. Everyone does. But you don’t see what I see. The reality is, mobile home parks are communities. People know each other. They take care of each other. It’s not what you think it is. And let me tell you, when the economy takes a nosedive — and it will — these communities will still be standing while everyone else is scrambling.*
Narrator (thinking): I’m trying to picture it now, the crash of rhinos he keeps talking about. It’s starting to make sense. These mobile home parks, they’re not just patches of land with trailers on them. They’re resilient. They’ve survived economic downturns, rising housing costs, and the sheer disdain of people who don’t understand them. And yet, they keep standing. Kind of like a rhino, really — slow-moving but impossible to stop once they get going.
Rhino: And let’s be honest, the people who live in mobile home parks — they’re not your stereotype. We’ve got young families, retirees, veterans. Hell, I’ve got a guy in one of my parks who used to be a stockbroker. These aren’t deadbeats. These are people who are tired of getting priced out of their own neighborhoods. They’re looking for stability, and that’s what we give them.
Narrator: I glance at my watch, but I’m not trying to leave. I’m thinking about the guy down the street from me who just took out a second mortgage on his overpriced condo. He’s probably looking at another 30 years of living paycheck to paycheck, but hey, at least he’s not living in a trailer. Ironic, isn’t it?
Rhino (not missing a beat): Oh yeah, and don’t even get me started on these condo folks. Paying $3,000 a month for a place the size of my garage, but they’ve got a gym in the building, so they think they’ve made it. Meanwhile, I’ve got residents paying less than $1,000 a month, and they’re living in homes with actual yards. Yards! Remember those?
Narrator: I try to suppress a laugh, but it slips out anyway. He’s got me. He’s completely got me. This isn’t just a conversation — it’s an awakening.
Rhino (finishing his coffee): Yeah, so, you can keep your overpriced condos.
