Reliability. That which can depended on to consistently fulfill its designated function. I generally think of reliability with vehicles - reliable transportation. Most of my driving life, I've had a comfortably functional vehicle that (through combined care and force of will) never gave me any trouble. Something that would go when I needed to go and get me there with both of us in one piece.
For two summers in a row in my early twenties, I did not have access to that. The first time, I was doing an internship and naively thought I'd get along well enough with my roommate and fellow intern for us to run our errands together in her car. I ended up doing a lot of walking around a Cleveland suburb that summer. The next year, I flew into New York City determined to master public transportation (not really a thing in the South). This experience altered my definition of reliable. I had previously put a lot of extra demands on it that it doesn't necessarily inherently hold, and I had to give up a lot of the control I was used to having. Will this train (or one like it) deliver me to my job in time for me to do what I need to do for the day? That is enough. Everyone there also took trains to work, from various parts of the city, so we perforce came in slightly staggered.
Now I think of reliability more like the sun. The sun rises and sets every single day. The sun shines and illuminates the landscape even through thick clouds. The sun does all of this entirely on its own timeline and with no concern for my preferences (wish it wasn't dark so early, I'd like an evening walk or it would help if it got light a little later, the kids are waking up way too soon and then we're all grumpy). And it does it flawlessly. As much as I'd like to, I can't attain its level of consistency, but I can take comfort in it.
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