My House, My Life : To Far From ‘Home : Lured away from their friends and family by sparkling new homes, couple found themselves cut off from their roots.

So you’re looking to buy a home in Orange County. Makes sense. That’s where you work. Your family and friends live there.

You check out a few new-home developments. Ouch. You check a few more. Ouch again. Better go for a resale home. Ouch one more time.

Then you pick up the Sunday newspaper and notice some really nice homes at really nice prices. You take a drive east to Riverside County to check out these nice homes and their nice prices. Why wouldn’t you buy one of these houses?

That’s exactly what my wife and I asked ourselves back in 1990. Having grown frustrated with Orange County home prices, we wanted to get into the soaring housing market before it was too late, so we bought an attractive new house in a sparkling new community in Riverside County.

Within months we were miserable. Seduced by the lure of a new home in a new community, we ignored the most basic of real estate axioms--location, location, location.

In our rush to choose mini-blinds and upgraded carpet, we forgot that our entire life was in Orange County--friends, family and, equally important at that time in our life, entertainment.

We never seriously considered the day-to-day routine of living in Riverside County. Basic questions about shopping, entertainment and convenience fell by the wayside as we plotted color schemes and sprinkler systems.

Compounding our problem was the fact that we bought in a remote area of Riverside County. We were so far removed from civilization that the closest place of business to our development was a nudist colony.

Buyer’s remorse set in within months. Friends wouldn’t visit--too far away, too much traffic, too hot--and suddenly we were saddled with the responsibility of taking care of a house. When you trek through model homes--especially as a first-time buyer--it’s hard to conceive how much work it takes to make a new home truly livable.

Our generous front and back yards were nothing more than large swaths of hard dirt. So much for blissful days and evenings in the yard. Blisterful was more like it as we rolled up our sleeves and vowed to landscape our way to happiness. Within six months we were mildly happier. We had attractive yards and a slightly better attitude. More important, we began to form friendships with the neighbors, most of whom were Orange County expatriates.

Interestingly, several had mentioned their regret at buying in the area. Their reasons for remorse were remarkably similar to ours. At the conclusion of such conversations we would nod in agreement and vow to sell in a few years, thanks to our growing equity. You can’t lose with Southern California real estate, we all figured.

Several years went by and the home we had bought for $152,000 was selling new for $138,000, and the developer was throwing in front and backyard landscaping. Excuse me?

Suddenly neighbors a few streets away were walking away from their homes. Only they weren’t walking away with a tidy profit. They were simply walking away.

A quick calculation revealed that if we sold at that point, less associated fees, we would net exactly zero dollars back from our down payment. Time for Plan B. Plan B was to stick it out for a few more years because things were bound to improve. After all, this was Southern California real estate.

A year went by, and our model was selling for $128,000 new, including all landscaping and “other” incentives. Foreclosure hunters were doing even better.

We were officially even more miserable than before. Not only were we in an area we had grown to abhor, we were stuck. New calculations revealed that we would have to foot money to leave. There’s nothing like feeling trapped at age 28.

Thank God the relationship between my wife and me was strong. Four of our six immediate neighbors divorced or were separated by this time. I’m convinced that in most cases, the breakups were a direct result of the real estate nightmare we were all living through.

By 1995 we wanted out in the worst way. And, not surprisingly, that’s just what we chose:

We entered into something called a land sale contract with an acquaintance. The specifics don’t warrant explanation here. It’s best only to know this: I wouldn’t recommend it. Over the next four years, a series of loser tenants proceeded to trash and degrade the property.

Only just recently, thanks to the Herculean effort of our Realtor, a painter and multiple repairmen, did we managed to sell the house.

Though we lost our entire down payment, countless dollars in upgrades and many sleepless nights, we learned a valuable lesson the hardest of ways: When it comes to real estate, location, location, location really is what matters.

It’s eerie how history now seems to be repeating itself. As home prices in Orange County spin out of control, home buyers are once again flocking east.

Our best advice for anyone considering Riverside County, especially the far-flung reaches: Proceed with the utmost caution.

And ask yourself what’s more important--the house or the area? While you may sleep in the house, you live in the area.

Also, are you prepared for the next real estate downturn? Can you envision living in that house for the next nine years if necessary?

Today we live in Orange County and we couldn’t be happier. We rented in the area for two years before buying. We can actually walk to the store, the movies, the gym. Friends live nearby. Family is 20 minutes away.

In short, we knew exactly what was important to us, and for the most part we got it. We don’t have a big new home and yard. What we do have, though, is a place to truly call home.

Dan Otter teaches elementary school in Corona.

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