Hi TFP! I am so glad to have found this forum, site, and the helpful tools and members that come along with it. I usually don’t “introduce myself,” but I feel a bit like writing at the moment, so here we go.
I’m a new pool owner… well, sort of. As a kid, my family had a big 27” round permanent above-ground pool, and some of my favorite memories were created with friends and family in that water. I helped my dad add chemicals when needed, and he trusted me to skim, vacuum, and test the water. (Hard to believe after I had broken the riding lawnmower by smashing into a landscaping rock, but he had faith.
) So, I guess I have some experience, but that was decades ago. Slowly, some of what I had learned is coming back to me with the help of TFP.
In June, I responded to an ad for a “free pool” on Facebook Marketplace. I was initially just looking for an inexpensive pool liner to use to create a pallet pool. Our local city pool is in the park right behind our house, but the costs associated with a recreation membership for our family of three to swim are outrageous. Still, it’s been years since having a pool, and I have missed having one in my life! So, I loaded up my daughter and drove about 45 minutes to pick up the mystery pool. The woman who was trying to get rid of it had no idea what size, shape, or brand it was, or if it was complete. All she knew was it hadn’t been used, her boyfriend’s friend dumped it in their yard, and she wanted it long gone.
When I arrived, the lady stayed inside, messaged to tell me where it was, and told me to take whatever I wanted. The first thing I noticed was the liner. I picked it up to toss it in the back of the truck. Well, I tried to pick it up. It wouldn’t budge. The thing was so heavy… I had to heave it end over end, and then partially unfold it to get it up into the bed of the truck. I looked it up later; the liner weighs 351 lbs! I still don’t know how I did that by myself, (my daughter didn’t want to touch it because she was scared there might be a spider on it
). I gathered the poles and legs and some tubes and a weird-looking filter thing and headed home.
I unfolded it in the backyard after my fiancé helped me lug it back there, and was in awe of the sheer size of it. What had I done?! I googled the serial numbers and found I had the liner, sand filter/pump, ladder, and 16 out of 40 steel frame pieces for a 24x22 Bestway Power Steel 52” Rectangular pool. I knew this pool; I recognized it. I’d sat just a summer ago on our patio in the blazing heat, sweat pouring down my face, staring at the same image on Amazon. I pondered how many voice-over and photography gigs I would have to complete to save up $1,500 so we could have that beautiful thing. Wasn’t going to happen that summer for sure. But now it was mine, for free, minus some heavy lifting and getting pretty dang dirty. Well, almost. I only had 40% of the frame parts. I could just order them, right? Wrong. Bestway was out of stock. And even if the pieces had been available, they were astronomically priced.
So began weeks of tirelessly searching. eBay, Amazon, Marketplace. I checked every day, several times a day. I messaged used pool sellers, asking if they would sell me just the frame. They all said no, understandably. I wanted to keep my overall cost low, so purchasing several new parts at $60+ a piece wasn’t going to happen, even though my fiancé was ready to do that. I researched the weight capacity of wood, of PVC pipe, of steel fence posts. I wondered how quickly I could re-learn the welding skills I had acquired over a decade ago in my short foray into learning auto body repair (don’t ask). But the pool and the water it contained were going to be heavy, and our neighbors’ homes and our basement were too close to take any amount of risk. I needed OEM parts. I was steadfast. I sipped my White Claw, told the dog to stop barking, wiped the sweat from my brow, and continued my search. I repeated my mantra… “There is a bargain and I shall find it. I am a huntress and Marketplace is my domain.”
Finally, after days of searching, I discovered a post from a guy in Michigan. He was selling the U-shaped upright supports I needed, along with “a couple of other rails.” I messaged him and purchased what he had, no questions asked. Finding these things was like searching for a needle in a haystack. He had to ship it in two different parcels because of the weight. We considered a road trip to pick them up, but then realized the shipping would be less expensive and time consuming. UPS made a lot more money off of that transaction than he did, $50 out of the total $140. I still owe that dude a pie or something because when the boxes finally arrived, I took the parts out, and I KID YOU NOT, every top rail piece I needed minus the “A’s” and corners I already had were in that beautifully tattered and well-traveled box. I nearly cried. I was certain in this moment that I had jumped into another timeline where luck was on my side. (This theory dissolved much later trying to set up the filter.)
So we had all the pieces and we just needed to put it up. But where? We measured our oddly shaped yard for hours. We contemplated how much we really liked that tree and that one. Did we REALLY need a garage? A shed? Access to the back part of the yard? That side bedroom? Finally, we decided to forego demolition or deforestation. We would put it in the most level sunfilled spot in our yard, near the existing hot tub. It doesn’t look so pretty there, but it works. We found a tiller for $40 on (you guessed it) FB Marketplace (my fiancé found that one!) and got to work leveling. There’s a huge tree with giant roots that tried to stop us. It failed. We got it as level as we could and went to town.
This gets wilder, but I’m already at short novel length here. I messed up everywhere I could. I started filling before I remembered to place boards beneath my supports. I learned how to use a sledgehammer and how heavy even just a foot of water really is. I used a jack, pallets, wood, sheer adrenaline, and lady-strength. Again, I don’t know how I did it, but I got the boards placed without destroying the pool or breaking myself in two.
All we had to do was connect the sand filter pump! Easy. Ha!
We quickly realized we didn’t have all the connecting hoses. We went to Lowe’s, we went to Lighthouse. I learned how to plumb in a day. My PVC plumbing was shockingly sound work, but the non-PVC adapter connections at the filter began to leak after about an hour. I cried. I threw a tantrum. I learned that PVC glue is really strong stuff and watched in agony as my fiancé cut away hours of my hard work in the 90-degree sun. We went to Great Escape, and the salesman there was surprised we had even made the progress we had. He said that retrofitting a Bestway anything is nearly impossible as their parts match nothing you can buy elsewhere. We finally caved and ordered some Bestway hoses my fiancé found on Amazon.
In the midst of all of this, I received a call from my mom. My grandmother, who has been battling Alzheimer’s for the last few years, had suffered some sort of heart issue and was non-responsive, fading fast in hospice. With tears in my eyes, I said goodbye to my grandma, my best childhood friend, soaked in pool water, covered in “blue dope,” my hair filled with PVC shavings, and small cuts and bruises all over my now ridiculously evident farmer’s tan.
Last night, I hung an old pillowcase full of chlorine stabilizer from my pool brush with bungee cords attached to the ladder. I stopped for a moment to listen to the sound of the water as it lapped around the edges of the giant fabric teabag I had created. I noticed the moonlight dancing off of the ripples in the water, and I felt a sense of calm. A memory rushed back to me from when I was about 2 or 3 years old. Decked out in my ruffled, strawberry-dotted two-piece bathing suit, I splished and splashed in a small wading pool. My Grammy and Pappap had set it up in their backyard that summer just for me. I smiled up at my grandma as she handed me my favorite Welch’s grape “pop-ickle” and said, “Here you go, my little sunshine-maker.” The warm, summer-scented breeze kicked up from the nearby lake. Cicadas (or ziz-zit bugs as they called them) chirped in tandem with the rhythm of the squeaky chains from the porch swing nearby. My Pappap rocked softly as he read his Louis L’Amour novel. He folded one end of the book’s soft cover over and fanned the remaining pages with his big thumbs. I can still smell the sweet, spicy, chocolate scent of the tobacco that came from the pipe he chewed in the side of his teeth, puffing infrequently as he read. Every now and again, he would stop for a moment, look chuckle and shake his head a bit. I like to think in that moment that he felt kind of like I did when I realized the value of this “free pool” I had somehow been blessed with. I remember that I too laughed in my own disbelief. I wondered how on earth I had gotten so lucky. It wasn’t easy to obtain, nothing worth having ever is. But in the end, what we build, what we put our hands on and our hearts into, those things always pay us back 10 fold. Appreciation and awareness of the blessings we receive is a gift we earn. Our pool is just a a sack of vinyl and water. The pool in my grandparent’s yard was just hose water in a round chunk of plastic. As JessBlount617 mentioned in a comment earlier, all of this is a labor of love. Not a love for the pool itself, but for what goes in the water. Not the chemicals. The people we love, the joy felt, the fun had, and the summer memories made. If all of our work and effort brings us but an hour of enjoyment and happiness, it is time well spent.
Life is full of heartbreak and joy and chaos and peace. This pool is mine, and I share it with my daughter, my fiancé, and my dog (against my better judgment). I share it with friends and family and neighbors. This is where my mind can drift and I feel a sense of calm. Thank you TFP, for all your advice, help, and love. I hope to one day be able to give back some of what I have been blessed to receive here. Happy and safe swimming, my friends.
I’m a new pool owner… well, sort of. As a kid, my family had a big 27” round permanent above-ground pool, and some of my favorite memories were created with friends and family in that water. I helped my dad add chemicals when needed, and he trusted me to skim, vacuum, and test the water. (Hard to believe after I had broken the riding lawnmower by smashing into a landscaping rock, but he had faith.
) So, I guess I have some experience, but that was decades ago. Slowly, some of what I had learned is coming back to me with the help of TFP.In June, I responded to an ad for a “free pool” on Facebook Marketplace. I was initially just looking for an inexpensive pool liner to use to create a pallet pool. Our local city pool is in the park right behind our house, but the costs associated with a recreation membership for our family of three to swim are outrageous. Still, it’s been years since having a pool, and I have missed having one in my life! So, I loaded up my daughter and drove about 45 minutes to pick up the mystery pool. The woman who was trying to get rid of it had no idea what size, shape, or brand it was, or if it was complete. All she knew was it hadn’t been used, her boyfriend’s friend dumped it in their yard, and she wanted it long gone.
When I arrived, the lady stayed inside, messaged to tell me where it was, and told me to take whatever I wanted. The first thing I noticed was the liner. I picked it up to toss it in the back of the truck. Well, I tried to pick it up. It wouldn’t budge. The thing was so heavy… I had to heave it end over end, and then partially unfold it to get it up into the bed of the truck. I looked it up later; the liner weighs 351 lbs! I still don’t know how I did that by myself, (my daughter didn’t want to touch it because she was scared there might be a spider on it
). I gathered the poles and legs and some tubes and a weird-looking filter thing and headed home.I unfolded it in the backyard after my fiancé helped me lug it back there, and was in awe of the sheer size of it. What had I done?!
I googled the serial numbers and found I had the liner, sand filter/pump, ladder, and 16 out of 40 steel frame pieces for a 24x22 Bestway Power Steel 52” Rectangular pool. I knew this pool; I recognized it. I’d sat just a summer ago on our patio in the blazing heat, sweat pouring down my face, staring at the same image on Amazon. I pondered how many voice-over and photography gigs I would have to complete to save up $1,500 so we could have that beautiful thing. Wasn’t going to happen that summer for sure. But now it was mine, for free, minus some heavy lifting and getting pretty dang dirty. Well, almost. I only had 40% of the frame parts. I could just order them, right? Wrong. Bestway was out of stock. And even if the pieces had been available, they were astronomically priced.So began weeks of tirelessly searching. eBay, Amazon, Marketplace. I checked every day, several times a day. I messaged used pool sellers, asking if they would sell me just the frame. They all said no, understandably. I wanted to keep my overall cost low, so purchasing several new parts at $60+ a piece wasn’t going to happen, even though my fiancé was ready to do that. I researched the weight capacity of wood, of PVC pipe, of steel fence posts. I wondered how quickly I could re-learn the welding skills I had acquired over a decade ago in my short foray into learning auto body repair (don’t ask). But the pool and the water it contained were going to be heavy, and our neighbors’ homes and our basement were too close to take any amount of risk. I needed OEM parts. I was steadfast. I sipped my White Claw, told the dog to stop barking, wiped the sweat from my brow, and continued my search. I repeated my mantra… “There is a bargain and I shall find it. I am a huntress and Marketplace is my domain.”
Finally, after days of searching, I discovered a post from a guy in Michigan. He was selling the U-shaped upright supports I needed, along with “a couple of other rails.” I messaged him and purchased what he had, no questions asked. Finding these things was like searching for a needle in a haystack. He had to ship it in two different parcels because of the weight. We considered a road trip to pick them up, but then realized the shipping would be less expensive and time consuming. UPS made a lot more money off of that transaction than he did, $50 out of the total $140. I still owe that dude a pie or something because when the boxes finally arrived, I took the parts out, and I KID YOU NOT, every top rail piece I needed minus the “A’s” and corners I already had were in that beautifully tattered and well-traveled box. I nearly cried. I was certain in this moment that I had jumped into another timeline where luck was on my side. (This theory dissolved much later trying to set up the filter.)
So we had all the pieces and we just needed to put it up. But where? We measured our oddly shaped yard for hours. We contemplated how much we really liked that tree and that one. Did we REALLY need a garage? A shed? Access to the back part of the yard? That side bedroom? Finally, we decided to forego demolition or deforestation. We would put it in the most level sunfilled spot in our yard, near the existing hot tub. It doesn’t look so pretty there, but it works. We found a tiller for $40 on (you guessed it) FB Marketplace (my fiancé found that one!) and got to work leveling. There’s a huge tree with giant roots that tried to stop us. It failed. We got it as level as we could and went to town.
This gets wilder, but I’m already at short novel length here. I messed up everywhere I could. I started filling before I remembered to place boards beneath my supports. I learned how to use a sledgehammer and how heavy even just a foot of water really is. I used a jack, pallets, wood, sheer adrenaline, and lady-strength. Again, I don’t know how I did it, but I got the boards placed without destroying the pool or breaking myself in two.
All we had to do was connect the sand filter pump! Easy. Ha!
We quickly realized we didn’t have all the connecting hoses. We went to Lowe’s, we went to Lighthouse. I learned how to plumb in a day. My PVC plumbing was shockingly sound work, but the non-PVC adapter connections at the filter began to leak after about an hour. I cried. I threw a tantrum. I learned that PVC glue is really strong stuff and watched in agony as my fiancé cut away hours of my hard work in the 90-degree sun. We went to Great Escape, and the salesman there was surprised we had even made the progress we had. He said that retrofitting a Bestway anything is nearly impossible as their parts match nothing you can buy elsewhere. We finally caved and ordered some Bestway hoses my fiancé found on Amazon.
In the midst of all of this, I received a call from my mom. My grandmother, who has been battling Alzheimer’s for the last few years, had suffered some sort of heart issue and was non-responsive, fading fast in hospice. With tears in my eyes, I said goodbye to my grandma, my best childhood friend, soaked in pool water, covered in “blue dope,” my hair filled with PVC shavings, and small cuts and bruises all over my now ridiculously evident farmer’s tan.
Last night, I hung an old pillowcase full of chlorine stabilizer from my pool brush with bungee cords attached to the ladder. I stopped for a moment to listen to the sound of the water as it lapped around the edges of the giant fabric teabag I had created. I noticed the moonlight dancing off of the ripples in the water, and I felt a sense of calm. A memory rushed back to me from when I was about 2 or 3 years old. Decked out in my ruffled, strawberry-dotted two-piece bathing suit, I splished and splashed in a small wading pool. My Grammy and Pappap had set it up in their backyard that summer just for me. I smiled up at my grandma as she handed me my favorite Welch’s grape “pop-ickle” and said, “Here you go, my little sunshine-maker.” The warm, summer-scented breeze kicked up from the nearby lake. Cicadas (or ziz-zit bugs as they called them) chirped in tandem with the rhythm of the squeaky chains from the porch swing nearby. My Pappap rocked softly as he read his Louis L’Amour novel. He folded one end of the book’s soft cover over and fanned the remaining pages with his big thumbs. I can still smell the sweet, spicy, chocolate scent of the tobacco that came from the pipe he chewed in the side of his teeth, puffing infrequently as he read. Every now and again, he would stop for a moment, look chuckle and shake his head a bit. I like to think in that moment that he felt kind of like I did when I realized the value of this “free pool” I had somehow been blessed with. I remember that I too laughed in my own disbelief. I wondered how on earth I had gotten so lucky. It wasn’t easy to obtain, nothing worth having ever is. But in the end, what we build, what we put our hands on and our hearts into, those things always pay us back 10 fold. Appreciation and awareness of the blessings we receive is a gift we earn. Our pool is just a a sack of vinyl and water. The pool in my grandparent’s yard was just hose water in a round chunk of plastic. As JessBlount617 mentioned in a comment earlier, all of this is a labor of love. Not a love for the pool itself, but for what goes in the water. Not the chemicals. The people we love, the joy felt, the fun had, and the summer memories made. If all of our work and effort brings us but an hour of enjoyment and happiness, it is time well spent.
Life is full of heartbreak and joy and chaos and peace. This pool is mine, and I share it with my daughter, my fiancé, and my dog (against my better judgment). I share it with friends and family and neighbors. This is where my mind can drift and I feel a sense of calm. Thank you TFP, for all your advice, help, and love. I hope to one day be able to give back some of what I have been blessed to receive here. Happy and safe swimming, my friends.
