Drunk hillbillies with mullets, motor homes and beat-up pickup trucks.

They’re all stereotypical images of NASCAR fans who follow a sport condemned by a large portion of suburban America.

But the sport’s following is fanatical, and there may be good reason why.

You might as well just cue in Rosco, the General Lee, the Duke boys and Boss Hog, cause this is gonna get rural...

It probably won’t settle well with many closed-minded traditionalists, convinced that a true sport has to be played with some type of ball.

But it’s the largest spectator event in the nation, like it or not.

And it deserves respect.

Yeah, laugh if you want, call me a redneck, tell me I live in a trailer park, say I drink Pabst Blue Ribbon and listen to Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Free Bird” all day.

But the fact is, I’m from the suburbs, those hard-knock streets of the west side of Lansing, and the first impressions I had of the enigmatic sport were probably similar to many of yours.

What a difference a summer in Jackson makes, where a lowly newspaper intern was introduced to racin’: An eclectic mix of American culture revved up to the speed of 180 mph.

The back of my hair’s growing as we speak. It’s beginning to flow in the breeze because I’m convinced watching cars drive around in circles can be fun.

Aw hell, in the summer what else is there?

There’s only so many 24-ounce, $7 beers you can drink at Comerica Park to help convince yourself that the Tigers are playing “inspired baseball.”

And there’re only so many heavyset so-called athletes with beer guts that you can watch waddle up and down the fairway on televised Senior PGA Tour events.

I think those old boys are still huffing and puffing.

As a sports fan, I’ve been forced to find other means of entertainment.

I have no choice, I’m deprived of my Spartan football and basketball, which have no problem drawing fans and plenty of adrenaline-pumping excitement.

So the pilgrimage was made, and I was introduced to a sport that truly cares about its fans.

In NASCAR, there’s strategy, determination and numerous drivers known for their personalities that have their bodies in prime physical shape to endure temperatures more than 120 degrees in their cars.

And I get upset when my car’s air conditioning doesn’t work.

But there I was, at the Michigan International Speedway, for both the Kmart 400 on June 10 and the Pepsi 400 Aug. 21.

It was an atmosphere unmatched - picture the Roman Coliseum in “Gladiator” with a buzz.

As an observant journalist, I kept my eyes peeled for signs of the sport’s true American essence and place in society.

Drunk hillbillies with mullets ... check.

Motor homes ... yup.

Beat-up pickup trucks ... yee haw!

Both races drew about 150,000 fans, not to mention thousands in the speedway’s infield, which sells $40 tickets up to the start of the big Sunday race.

Selected groups of fans were able to walk around the pit areas and ask questions to racing team members prior to the race.

Drivers were polite, shook hands, gladly signed autographs and carried themselves as true professional athletes.

And the fans, they were quite hospitable as well.

In a span of about five minutes - while walking down the infield during the Kmart 400 - I was offered five free beers.

As Don King rants, “only in America.”

If only more sports and athletes could follow and give back to the thousands of supporters who shell out tons of bucks to cheer them on.

Maybe they could learn a lesson or two from those ol’ hillbillies.

I’m sure they’re willing to meet over an ice cold Pabst.