So southerners are a breed apart. Charlotteans have this drawl, not quite uppity Charleston and not quite hillbilly West Virginian. Like they say no in two syllables. Sounds like saying "now" and "ooh", but blended into almost one syllable. My neighbor's a native and is a character. He's a carpenter who likes that alcohol and cherry red '56 Suburban with red velvet interior. Also had a Trans Am. Wrecked it lately and the story was funny. Says he tore up the guard rail on Graham St. around 2AM so he went to find his buddy who owns a bodyshop nearby at Rockporch, a run down bar. They go to the shop (the car's new paint job was only a week old) and he's waiting outside while Bodyshopdude goes in to activate the garage doors. He was nervous. "Don't look too good standin' around at three in the mornin' drunk and next to a wrecked car. Then shor' nuff here come the law wontin' ta know what the hell I'm doin'." Meanwhile Bodyshopdude, drunk and in a hurry to get back to drinking more was pulling the wrecker out like he always did pushing a garage door opener like he always did except also putting on some Lynard Skynard. He comes crashing through the doors which were only a quarter of the way up, tunes blaring. "THAT'S the man ya wonna talk to right tare...." Later.
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