Hoarding, Donor Fire Truck Parts and Building Barns

Will wonders never cease? According to some people who know me, The Federal Government has just declared that I am federally protected. I wouldn’t mind much if I could get spotted owl status or something like that but this is a little insulting. Here’s what happened: our illustrious Government, in its infinite wisdom, decided that hoarders are protected under the Americans with Disabilities Act.

The stories in this column are true. Averett lives a dull life in rural Southside Virginia with his wife Management, two children and a rotating assortment of goats, dogs, cats, snakes and other local fauna.

Now, in the first place I am not a hoarder. Hoarders are crazy people who keep piles of useless stuff. In my case, I just happen to have a rather large collection of unique collectables. The fact that my collection fills several houses, six or ten barns and maybe three or eight acres doesn’t make me a hoarder.

I’m told that real hoarders refuse to admit they have a problem. That’s not me. If I had a problem, I would certainly admit it. For example, I’ll admit that I have a problem in that I don’t have enough barns in which to store my stuff thus causing it to all spill out. I’ll admit that I have a problem with some stuff getting damaged by the rain and I’ll admit that I have a problem bringing new stuff home faster than I can build barns in which to keep it.

Obviously, since I can admit my problems, I can’t be a hoarder. On the other hand, being federally protected might be a good thing. Anyone (including my bride Management) who makes unkind comments regarding me or my collection is now committing a crime.

Frankly, I was happy with the protections I already had in place according to the Constitution but since these are being replaced and ignored, I guess I shouldn’t complain.

If you’ve been reading Rural Legends for a while, you already know that when I need a part for a car or truck, I prefer to buy “one of each.” That is, when I need something, I buy a complete car so I never have to go parts shopping for that truck again. There are multiple benefits to this. I save money, I always have what I need in inventory AND my bride doesn’t get as annoyed when I say “I bought parts for the car” as she does when I tell her “I bought another car.”

This week I bought some parts for Oren, my fire truck. Now, Oren is a special case. Finding parts for a 70 year old fire truck sometimes takes some time. Not only that but when you are dealing with a specialty item that was only produced for a few years, there just aren’t a lot of opportunities.

In any case, as it turns out, a friend of mine just happened to have a junked fire truck almost just like mine. I knew his father had it but I was under the misunderstanding that it had been sold years ago. I didn’t even think to ask about it.

In fact, I bought the truck from his Grandfather 28 years ago but my new bride thought feeding the brats and paying bills was more important than having a fire truck, so I had to back out of the deal. Ten years later, I was talking with his father about the truck but he got sick and I heard he’d sold it. It is possible that his father told someone he’d sold it – meaning that he’d sold it to me but I didn’t realize it – so when I heard the truck had been sold, I thought it had been sold.

So this week, I closed the deal with the third generation and I now have a nice collection of spare parts for Oren.

All that I have left to do is pick up Donor Oren and bring him home. I will do this as soon as I can figure out a place to put him so that Management won’t see him every time she comes down the driveway. There are just some things that wives don’t want to see every day.

Another positive in taking 28 years to complete a deal is that I now have better equipment to move a fire truck. In fact, my wrecker should be finished soon – which is another thing that a smart man doesn’t force his bride to see every day.

I guess I’ll just have to build another barn.