I live in a small town in Florida. In fact, it's the town I grew up in and although as you drive down the road to my house you see more than 10 Confederate flags waving, I do not have even ONE person to talk about my obsession, Nascar, with. Excepting, of course, you my fellow bloggers and readers.

Now you might say, WHAT????

But oh yes my friends, tis the truth and it's a sad truth. I grew up with three older brothers, a pool table, and a lot of cars. And although I am the only daughter, I also happen to be the only one in my family that is obsessed with Nascar. You might wonder that my brothers just don't enjoy it as I do. Nope! Not the case! They do NOT understand their little sister's love of fast cars at all!

My oldest brother was obsessed with fishing, so much in fact that when he died last year his widow had his ashes buried in his tackle box. For those of you that are horrified, it was actually very fitting to my brother and his obsession with fishing.

The next brother is a teacher, and has never had ANYTHING to do with ANY sport. He is a musician though, so I will give him credit for that.

The brother who is closest to me in age, thinks that heaven is a football field or a landing strip. Football and flying..flying and football...that's all he's interested in. WORSE, he and his wife just told me that since I have always been considered a so-called 'hippie' that I really can't love Nascar the way I do because Nascar is, of course, considered a redneck sport.

This leaves my 75 year old mother, who loves me enough to actually read the papers and keep up on who wins and the drama at the races so that I might have another person to converse with about the love of my life: racing!

Many people throughout my forty-eight years have tried valiantly and stubbornly to attach a category to my personality and have found complete failure. Was I a "hippie"? Yep, in fact my mom still calls me her 'flower child' because of my long tresses. Am I a redneck? Obviously, I am to a certain degree. I know this because Sunday at mom's house I was rooting loudly for one driver to take out another driver, and she looked at me, said calmly but with her sarcasm intact, "Good God, Cindi! You're a redneck!"

Being an intelligent, independent, liberal Nascar fan in the heart of Nascar country means that the real rednecks feel they have nothing in common with me, and the other intelligent, independent liberals I have run across are aghast when I ask them if they enjoy Nascar.

I'm in Redneck Hell!