When I bought 200 acres of Nebraska farmland for $2,000 at a government auction, I thought I’d scored the opportunity of a lifetime. Wide open prairie. Black soil. No structures. No roads. Just freedom. Two days later, a woman in designer heels marched across the dirt and handed me a binder thick enough to stop a bullet. According to her, I owed $15,000 in back dues to a homeowners association I had never heard of — plus $750 a month going forward.
I looked around. Grass. Wind. Cows. No subdivision. No street signs. No gates. Just open agricultural land that had been farmed since the 1960s. She introduced herself as the president of a nearby HOA tied to a small cluster of upscale homes down the road. She claimed the previous owner had “agreed” to join their association — and that those obligations transferred to me. Her confidence suggested she’d done this before.
