The last 8 months of living in a rural (what Alaskan’s consider suburban/urban)town, I have experienced many things that I would consider slightly hillbilly. Now if you participate or enjoy any of these activities more power to you. For me, it just happens to be a little bit out of my comfort zone to say wear overalls and have wife-beaters be a normal part of my wardrobe. However the last two days have been a new frontier of hillbilly for me. Please enjoy the following:
Hillbilly Truck Ride
Normally I ride in the passenger seat, or maybe I’m driving… or maybe I’m carpooling with other people and sit in the back. When its a really good time, I’ll ride in the trunk and hug my knees… I generally do NOT ride on the back of a truck.
I don’t know, there is just something very hillbilly about having your feet dangle over the end of the bed, and throwing caution to the wind if you go over a large bump. If you know the street I live on, you know that I threw caution, sanity, and my bones to the wind. The road to my house is its own rodeo.
Yesterday I frequented my first estate sale. I bought someone else’s stuff. There are so many instances of Hillbilly please bear with me.
First of all, estate sales are hillbilly in Alaska. I’m sure in New York or the Hamptons estate sales have ridiculous antiques and gilded mirrors, and china that was imported from France… but in Alaska, estate sales have things like fly swatters and buckets. Paint buckets. Yeah.
Secondly, the clientele of an Alaskan estate sale is rather like the population of Walmart. There are babies, bearded men, hairy women, and a lot of cigarette smokers. I was intimidated, overwhelmed, and desperately tried to block my nostrils.
Finally, this is hillbilly because not only was I buying some hillbilly’s stuff, but I was buying a HOARDER’s hillbilly stuff. I’m not kidding this guy had thousands of things all crammed into his tiny molding house and it was almost all brand new. Everything from lawn mowers to pots and pans, from chainsaws to sleeping bags. Fortunately for me the man appeared to be a Lowe’s hoarder. I don’t know if I could have handled being at a Walmart hoarders’ estate sale.
Hillbilly Motor Home
Every good hillbilly knows that in order to be a hillbilly you must own a motor home. Where else ya gonna live? Obvious question right? Well to officially mark my evolution into hillbilly-dom we got one. Sorta.
Here’s the real story. We bought a shed. (At a crazy good, thanks for owning a shed you weird hoarder, kind of price). The issue with buying things at an estate sale is that there are no convenient little delivery men to snatch up your loot and bring it right to your house. So that means post auction I had the privilege to tear down a shed, haul the parts to the truck and roll home. Problem is that there roof don’t fit in the truck. So trip number 2 involved plopping the roof on top of the 4Runner and surreptitiously turning our vehicle into a mobile home. Wow! She’s a beaut. Just lay the seats down and you got a bed. Practical and comfortable.
Hillbilly Treasure Hunt
My final act of hillbilly-ness was committed on Friday night. I hesitate to admit this but… Cough I dumpster dove. Oh god, that looks worse in writing. Yup, one man’s trash was my treasure. Sort of I guess. It was shelves, so how much of a treasure can shelves really be? Enough for Trevor and I to want them apparently.
So that’s how hillbilly I am. Sad but true. Can I blame Alaska for my behavior? Or is this just a hidden characteristic that is only surfacing because of the climate that encourages such behavior?