I am a proud product of Duvall, Washington. My lineage includes a scarily narrow family tree from Arkansas, so perhaps I was genetically predisposed towards 'hillbilly' tendencies, but I can't help but think that Duvall has imposed some level of influence on my life. As an example of Duvall's influence; many of you have a clear number in mind when asked how many cars you own, where I couldn't even start without throwing in asterisks and back stories. Car count? More like car biography. Ken Burns style.
Yep, I own many vehicles. And I may even, from time to time, attempt to claim too many as runners. For instance, there is a 1993 Mazda pickup stuck in the woods behind my Mother's house that I often label a running vehicle, even though it is stuck in a mud bog with two flat tires and no roof. Sure, in the strictest sense, it runs, but it wouldn't get me to a hospital quickly enough to save my life if I were bleeding severely. And here's the test.
If a car can't be driven with one hand (the other hypothetically severed) in enough time to prevent lethal hemorrhaging, then it cannot be considered a runner. I've found this a useful tool when attempting to relay to non-car people exactly how many of my cars are runners. Again, still no number can be affixed without a 9 hour mini-series in the way of an explanation.
If you are a car owner, I strongly urge you to count the items of your fleet that do not meet the Emergency Rule. It makes for a fun anecdote when boring the life out of others at dinner parties. Who knows, it may even save your life if your hand is severed and you need to get to a hospital. Of course, I'd likely die enroute trying to defend why we could have taken the 1993 Mazda pickup if we'd only taken the time to air up the flat tires, install a fresh battery, top off the gas tank, check the brake cylinder levels, and other minor touches.
But what a way to go!
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