In David Cross’ recent stand up album, Shut up you fucking baby, he talks about his childhood in Atlanta, being the only Jew on the block, and most importantly about the misconception that hicks are actually from the south. This past weekend, I tested his hypothesis, and went with a few new friends to the Dixie Speedway weekend races in Woodstock, GA (a.k.a. Home of the Champions). Here are some photos I brought home with me:
I grew up in the small town of Yreka in very far Northern California (the term we have to use to disinguish ourselves from those Northern Californians from central California), which might be labeled podunk, hick, or even white trash by some. Going to Woodstock, GA was almost like taking a trip home, given the style of dress, social norms, racial diversity and manner of speech that we found there, even though these two towns are 3,000 miles apart. Truth be told, for anyone from rural America to feel comfortable, all they need to do is drive for an hour outside the city and they’ll find themselves among friends.
We all share the common bond of bucking ranch animals, cheap beer, and cars demolishing each other. We hicks hold these joys to be self-evident.