I Turned Into Hank Hill Despite my Best Efforts

What buying a home in the suburbs will do to you.

I always hated my hometown.

“It’s an industrialized hellhole,” I’d tell everyone. “It’s polluted, it’s too far away, and the people are trash.”

Then the housing crisis happened. And I bought a house there.

At first, I was an invader. My neighbors saw me and my wife as city slickers who thought we were better than everyone else. And to be honest, we were still city folk: we didn’t care about maintaining our lawn, and we didn’t really know or care about anyone in the community in particular when we moved in. But soon, I could feel my hair depleting like Bill Dauterive’s dome. I could feel myself caring an inordinate amount about my lawn like Hank. My accent morphed back into my local dialect again, like Boomhauer’s drawl. And, like Dale, I slowly became obsessed with liberating my home of vermin.

I am now one of them. Or rather, I am one of us.

Here’s what the transformation will look like if you decide to move to the suburbs.

The transformation into Hank Hill was gradual. It all started with the mayor, who was one of our neighbors. When we’d go on walks, he’d invariably see us at some point and say hi. He’d ride his bike past our house and smile. He personally sent us a letter welcoming us to the town.

My wife is a person of color and he treated her with dignity and respect. It’s not like most of the people in my town are screaming racists, but it sometimes felt like they could be, so when the community started speaking to us and talking to us, I inevitably had to say (in a Hank Hill voice), “These people are alright.”

Before moving to the suburbs, people walking down the street didn’t really have names. They were just blank slates that I would never see again. People going on walks would see me watering my lawn and give me unsolicited advice. This annoyed me to no end at first. How dare they impede on my right to water my lawn however I damn well please? I thought. Soon, I realized they were just…

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