I used to think I was a redneck...till I moved to North Carolina

Growing up in the hills of Oklahoma, surrounded by pickup trucks, coon dogs and RC cola one can be forgiven for thinking that they might just be a redneck. The fact that a significant portion of your graduating class in high school had not only a belt buckle the size of a dinner plate but also their name on the back of that belt and the all too familiar wear ring from a can of Copenhagen ground into the denim of their back pocket can easily lead one to believe that perhaps you are not on the cutting edge of society. Now don't get me wrong. I love my home state. The simplicity of life, the character of the people, the space; there aren't many places like it. However, it would wrong to classify it as "progressive", or would it?

I've now lived in North Carolina for nearly 8 months and in that time I've had to redefine what exactly redneck is. Redneck is not a family of 6, children's faces caked in dirt and "dad" sporting a sleeveless shirt strolling through Walmart. Redneck is that same family, same 4 kids covered in dirt but only wearing diapers and both Dad and Mom sporting sleeveless shirts that advertise their favorite NASCAR driver. Redneck isn't a trailer home on 5 acres with old a car sitting on blocks. Redneck is a trailer home sitting on a city lot between "normal" houses and $50,000 cowboy Cadillac sitting out front. Redneck in not a Del Rancho Steak Sandwich Supreme. Redneck is a god awful North Carolina burger with "the works" (mustard, onions, alpo-esque chili topped with coleslaw), the only saving grace of these ville creations is they are approximately the size of a quarter and typically wadded up in a paper napkin when served, making them oh so convenient to toss directly in to the trash where they belong.

From their arcane liqueur laws to their bizarre love of all things NASCAR, North Carolina is the definition of redneck. And if this is the definition of redneck, I'm not a redneck anymore.