Not that it makes much difference in my life or the way I live it, but on my dad's side, I'm half Dutch and half German, on my mom's side, I'm pretty much hillbilly. Her folks are from the hills of West Virginia. Irish or Scottish... there's a McClure in there somewhere, or something like that.
And now, this is my old LeSabre, the car I adore and treasure:
She's a 2002 with over 180,000 miles on her, and I am still planning to drive her until she can drive no more... drive her into the dirt. But I sure wish that dang deer hadn't dove head-first into me the other morning. He was a big-bodied deer, huge really. Mike and Joyce came and picked him up, and Kev butchered him... could only use less than half the meat, but it was still a good amount of venison.
So now I drive a crappy looking car and eat road-kill. I'm a hillbilly. It's official.
And of course, the impact, which drove me off the road and nearly into the ditch... that buck was moving when he plowed into me!... anyway, now my neck is one huge PAIN. Nice. One step forward, 2 steps back... we hillbillies know how to do the 2-step...