Lesson Number One

I have two brothers, one of whom is a certified redneck. I can offer his accent, gun collection, beer belly, wardrobe of camouflage and coveralls, and multiple vehicles in various stages of being re-outfitted in the "yard" as evidence. (No Syd, there are no chickens... that I know of... but there's a pot-bellied pig--a one-time house pet--that now lives in fetid squalor in the back yard and has to weigh almost as much as a cow). I couldn't tell you how many dogs and cats are roaming around their place. Oh - he also used to live in a trailer but actually made good on the poor white trash dream of living in a trailer just long enough to make enough money to build his own home. He's damned handy, that 'neck brother of mine.

Anyway, "Red" very recently purchased a local auto repair shop in his little hick town. He continues to work fulltime at the chemical refinery he's worked at for the last fifteen years or so; he hired my other brother and also kept the former mechanic on to do the actual repair work. All of this is actually pretty cool in my family. Red has a new business; other brother has a job he loves; and nephew is picking up some new skills in his free time. Red's wife has been an active participant in marketing the new business. I learned this today upon my first visit to the shop, where I was given key rings, pens, and magnets advertising the new venture.

As I was surveying Red's new domain, my eyes landed on a photo of his wife posing with an unknown man in racing paraphernalia in what was clearly some sort of racing venue. I gestured at the picture and asked who it was. "Your sister-in-law," Red replied dryly. Then he went on to educate me: the unknown racer in the picture is drag racing star Tony Schumacher. Apparently Mr. Schumacher is the shit on the "NHRA circuit" and the pic of my SIL standing arm-in-arm with him is something akin to hugging Reba McEntire or Hank Williams, Jr. at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo. Red was about as animated as I've ever seen him (sober) while talking about the drag racing. His evident pride in the photo, however, quickly diminished when the topic turned to the marketing efforts. It seems my SIL ordered the wrong calendars: Classic cars instead of Muscle cars.

I might not know much about NASCAR or NHRA, but in this instance my brother and I were in accord. Muscle cars are more appealing.

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