A perk of living the country life in Hillmomba is that the citizenry is relatively safe from harm.
Sure, there's the occasional low-flying helicopter or two that may hover over your Mansion around 10:00 p.m. Or thieves who steal your outgoing bills from your mailbox and write their name in place of Dish Network and then cash the check. Or roving portable meth-labbers who dump their paraphernalia on your gravel road at 3:00 in the afternoon. Or those two folks last week who discharged firearms into the walls of neighboring apartments. But with the exception of occasional accidental heroin overdoses, Hillmombans generally survive until they expire of old age.
The law enforcement officials pass the time by setting up speed traps behind the local high school. And by searching vehicles in which the driver has nodded off over the steering wheel, usually at a stop sign, or in the parking lot of The Devil's Playground. Which cuts down on the accidental deaths by heroin overdose.
You know when you pick up a pizza at Casey's General Store, and see two town police cars at a nearby apartment complex, that your chances of being apprehended for speeding when you let your T-Hoe coast at 50 mph in a 45 mph zone on the way to the city limit sign have just been reduced two-thirds.
Country livin' is the life for me.