Get up and get out of here. Now.

You are never too poor for good toilet paper. Even if you have to steal it. Some folks, when leaving a hotel room, go down a cehcklist: Ashtray? Check. Towels? Check. Shampoo? Check. Coffee? Check. Toilet paper? Check. Personally, my checklist is, Shampoo? Check. Coffee? Check. Styrofoam cups? Check. Toilet paper? Check. Apparently I'm not the only one.

If your suitcase contains all the shampoo and coffee from every hotel you've ever stayed in, you might be a redneck. Of course, you're paying to have consumed that stuff anyway.

One time we even took the Do Not Dsturb sign because the damn hook part ripped off while we were trying to get it over the doorknob. We duct taped it to our car window while we slept in our seats the next night.

I've noticed that the coffee quality decreases as hotel fanciness increases, and vice versa. Seriously, have you ever had Sheraton coffee? You don't want to. The only exception was the fancy hotel in Kona Hawaii, but that figures. The Motel 6 in one little podunk town in South Dakota that we stayed in on our way to Sturgis had the best coffee I ever had. I made a point of getting six bags.

My theory about this is that the shitholes want you to get up and get the hell outta there as soon as possible, so that they can move the next people in. And they know you'll come back for the coffee if you're ever in town again.

Of course, hotels actually have functional toilet paper. Truckstop toilet paper is translucent. You want a couple of rolls in your suitcase that won't get number two all over your hand. No wonder so many people keep a stock of toilet paper from the hotels they've stayed in on a road trip.

Gearhead habits and redneck lawns

If you cried at the end of World's Fastest Indian, you're probably a bit of a gearhead. I'll pass you the Kleenex.

If you sell cowboy furniture, walking sticks, and steel roses to pay for your Indian habit, you might be a gearhead.

If you have over five hundred horses in your garage and none of them are animals, you might be a gearhead.

If the first time you saw your house on Google Earth you couldn't help but say, "Man, what a dump!" before you realized, oh, that's our house, you might be a redneck. In my defense, that was right after we bought it as an abandoned property.

If, fifteen years later, your house can still be mistaken for an abandoned property at first glance, but hey, it's a mighty spiffy "abandoned property", you might be a redneck.

If you have more lawnmowers than grass but your lawn is covered in green plants anyway, you might be a redneck.

If you have the second-greenest lawn in the neighborhood and all you do is ignore it, you might be a redneck in a yuppie area. They work so hard on their yards that the yard can't live without them.

If you've ever had a yard that consisted entirely of poison ivy, you're probably that poor fella in the Reader's Digest last April. That was a freakin' hilarious article. Life lesson, don't take off your clothes when there's poison ivy around.