Walk out the back door. Open the hangar. Taxi to the runway. Lift off over the Cascade volcanoes before the coffee cools.
This is the rare property where the airplane lives thirty feet from the kitchen — not in a waitlisted T-hangar across town, but steps from where you sleep. The runway is yours to use by a deeded, recorded easement that conveys with the property: the strongest form of airpark access there is. It survives ownership changes and association politics. You are not renting a privilege. You own it.
Lots at Parkside rarely surface. When one does, the buyer is almost never local — it's a pilot somewhere in the country who has waited years for exactly this.