Vancouver has had its chance, now it’s mine.

While chatting with a few friends last week, we easily countered Vancouver’s response to, ‘You might be from Saskatchewan if…’ with a few flattering, and completely true, tales of our own.

You might be from Saskatchewan if … You lace up your runners on a particularly chilly day in January, intending to head out for one of your scheduled long runs. Your thermal underwear is suffocated beneath layers of fleece, wool and a hurricane-strength wind-breaking jacket.

The woolen cap you donned is itching like crazy around the ears, but it’s worth the discomfort to know that your brain will likely not freeze over the course of the next hour in -30C temperatures. A fleece muffler covers your face, and by the time you reach the outskirts of town, it has frozen to your cheek and your eyelashes are covered in icicles. But this is normal, so onward you go.

You’re proceeding comfortably up a gravel road when a car begins stalking you from behind. You are not alarmed. You know this is not a thief, kidnapper or stalker. In fact, you immediately know it is someone who is stopping to offer you a ride. And by the sound of the muffler on his truck, you even know who it might be.

So, you pull over to the side of the road, listen to the offer of a ride and politely tell the driver that, ‘no, my car hasn’t broken down,’ and ‘no, I don’t need a ride to town,’ and ‘no, I’m not going crazy.’ In fact, you’re simply out for a jog, so they can carry on their way without worrying about your safety again.

As the second car approaches, you again slow down, pull onto the shoulder, explain that you are merely out for a run and send the driver on her way.

The third time, you turn around in disbelief, and wave the driver by rather abruptly - your training schedule can’t afford all of these slowdowns.

And the fourth time, you give up, jump in the car and get a nice heated ride to town. Who jogs in -30 C anyway?

You might be from Saskatchewan if… Your home has started on fire at midnight. You are not there, but the local volunteer firefighters do not know that. They arrive on the scene in a panic, thinking you may be inside.

John* of the local fire department tries your back door, but it is uncharacteristically locked. He has no choice but to kick the door down. And, besides, he’s waited his whole life to boot down a door and save the day, just the way he’s seen it on TV.

He uses all of his masculine strength, and gets the door down with one swift kick. He charges in to find you, but he only finds Mike*, his fellow volunteer firefighter department member. It appears Mike has come in through the front door of the house, which was unlocked … of course.

John and the fire department volunteers rescue two cats, apologize for kicking in your door and reiterate that if they’d only checked the front door, you wouldn’t have to replace the back one they kicked in.

You might be from Saskatchewan if … It’s the big day of your daughter’s drivers license test. She’s nervous and excited all at once. But before you go to the test, you stop at the Co-op service station to fill up with gas. You don’t want her running out of fuel in the middle of one of the most important events of her life.

However, while you’re at the service station, you notice a strange substance on the ground. It appears one of the hoses on your car is leaking, and leaking quite badly. Your daughter is beside herself, you know there’s not enough time to fix it, so you hang your head in despair.

A fellow from town by the very distinctive nickname of ‘Bushy’ (name not changed by the way) happens to be walking by. He stops and asks what the problem is. You tell him your plight and before you know it, he has reached into his pocket and has stuffed a set of keys in your hand.‘Take my car,’ he says and sends your daughter off to her driver’s test.

She passes, you celebrate and Bushy gets his car back.

Ah Saskatchewan… there’s really no place like it!