My husband is shopping for a vehicle, specifically one that can “haul things” or “tow something.” We are in our 60s and live in the suburbs. The only things we haul are garbage cans once a week and the odd piece of lumber maybe twice a year. We don’t tow anything. I gave up on this issue when I realized that part of why I fell in love with him is that, like me, he has a rural underpinning.
These days I hang out a lot, reading, painting, knitting. But I grew up in the country and have, in the past, worked on the roof, helped dig a homemade septic tank, fed chickens, weeded, mowed, sanded, and slept outside without a tent.
Years ago I was visiting a friend who said he had hired someone to run a wire from the stereo into the next room, in order to mount a speaker on the wall. Put “hired” in italics please. I was, to use the trendy word, gobsmacked. One characteristic of fundamentally rural people is figuring out how to fix things, improvise, do it yourself.
Another rural trait is, apparently, the urge to own a vehicle that can do rough work.
I’ve never lived in an apartment, even in a city. I would never be able to get my husband to take off his shoes inside. There are stacks of this and that in the (very small) yard. I’m interested in silk, so he planted a white mulberry tree to feed the silkworms I will eventually raise.
One more thing – I think projects are part of our rural framework. My husband and I, and both our adult children, always have projects going, whether it’s picture framing, welding, spinning and knitting yarn, weaving, building, or organizing.
So, fine, we can get a pick up just in case we need to haul or tow something.