Survivalism and self-sufficiency are exploding across America.
According to TruePrepper, a preparedness research group, nearly 23 million Americans now call themselves preppers — many fleeing big-city metros for rural areas where they can be self-reliant if calamity strikes.
I offer some insight into this trend. A decade ago, I left the Washington, D.C., metro area and returned to my small ranch on the edge of the countryside just outside Pittsburgh — a place I’ll call Maybury.
The people in metro Washington sure are different from the good folks of Maybury.
D.C. is populated with thousands of specialists with master’s degrees who have no idea how to drive a stick shift or unclog a sink. If calamity occurs — a snowstorm, an electromagnetic pulse attack or a meteor strike — many wouldn’t have a clue how to survive.
My Maybury neighbors, on the other hand, aren’t worried at all.
My neighbors know how to grow, trap and shoot their own food. More importantly, they know how to make their own alcohol — which was more valuable than currency in our nation’s early years, when farmers traded it for just about anything.
No matter what happens — an earthquake, economic collapse, the Democrats take over all three branches of the government — my neighbors will still wind down their evenings next to a wood-burning fireplace as they sip homemade hooch.
They’re also handy with shotguns and pistols. Nobody with any sense would break into their homes or give them grief — at least nobody who doesn’t want a load of buckshot in his derriere.
If the electricity goes out, all my town loses is one stoplight and a couple of streetlamps. Most of my neighbors have solar panels and generators to keep things running.
If the township water stops pumping, few of my neighbors will mind — many have freshwater wells and rainwater collection systems.
If there’s a food shortage at the supermarket, no worries. My neighbors have plenty of venison stashed away and root cellars stocked with vegetables and home-canned goods.
Even if an EMP surge knocked out modern cars — their sophisticated circuitry is vulnerable to such attacks — my neighbors would be fine.
Their 1976 AMC Pacers may be sitting on blocks now, but with simple carburetors that can run on grandma’s elixir, they’ll be back on the road faster than you can shake a rooster’s tail.
A Talker Research survey found that nearly half of Gen Z doesn’t know how to change a flat tire — 25 percent don’t know how to change a light bulb.
Our youngest adults didn’t grow up building shacks and go-karts or repairing bikes, as I and millions of other kids did in the ’70s — they grew up with electronic devices that were replaced whenever they broke.
The good news, according to a separate Talker Research survey, is that 80 percent of Americans — millions above and beyond highly motivated preppers — are eager to take control of their lives by learning how to fix stuff and function on their own.
Lucky for me, I’ve always been handy and resourceful — and I’m surrounded by dozens of neighbors who know lots more than I do.
No matter what happens to the world, I’ll still amble down to the VFW to sing Willie Nelson tunes on karaoke night.
If the electricity cuts out and the AC shuts off, we’ll pour our refreshments into a couple of generators — and get right back “on the road again.”
Find Tom Purcell’s syndicated column, humor books and funny videos of his dog, Thurber, at TomPurcell.com. Email him at Tom@TomPurcell.com.
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