On the Set of "24"

Two annual Daytona races, where night meets (and becomes) day.

Victor Newman Photography

The ferris wheel is a good perch for the all-night race.

The first time I covered the Rolex 24 Hours of Daytona was in 1996 and I will never forget the bizarre feeling that I had the moment I realized, "Hang on dude, did you say 24 Hours?"

We came to town to produce the late, great RPM2Night on ESPN2 and as we set up our office and TV studio in the infield the green flag flew on the race that kicks off the international sports car season. We worked for five or six more hours, left the track, went to dinner, got eight hours sleep, showered, had breakfast, came back to the track…and they still had four hours to go.

What has always struck me about the event is the stark contrast it provides to the next event at the Daytona International Speedway, a little race called the Daytona 500. More than a decade later, I am happy to report that, despite participation from more and more NASCAR drivers, the cultural gap between the two races is still alive and well.

"Night and day," a parking lot attendant named Jim said to me as I shoehorned my rental car into a too-small space early Saturday afternoon. "I've had at least three conversations this morning where I had no idea what the other guy was saying and I know damn well he didn't know what I was saying. How do you say parallel park in German?"

The 2009 Rolex 24 driver list represented 22 different countries covering six continents. (Antarctica, where you at?) The team I spent most of my time with, the Gentleman Jack Pontiac Crawford co-owned by Richard Childress, was packed with people from such worldly locales as Great Britain, New Zealand and Welcome, North Carolina.

When NASCAR returns to the beach in a little less than two weeks, its racers will represent two in each category and if not for Juan Pablo Montoya (who finished second in the thrilling finish to the 24), that number would be cut in half.

Pit road for the Rolex looks more like Valley Forge than Gasoline Alley, with makeshift tent homes constructed to house the pit crews who eat, sleep and change tires for the better part of two days, though thankfully not as cold as years' past, but it was certainly not balmy by any stretch (visit the auto racing page of ESPN.com for a truly killer story about their marathon night, it was penned by a handsome devil of a magazine writer).

In 1998 I watched a guy "go fishing" from the roof of his converted school bus by dangling a Bud can from a Zebco 33 while his two children leapt in the air to grab it.

The infield for the 500 is equal parts Las Vegas, Woodstock and Myrtle Beach. The only real organized activities are the ones devised by its inhabitants, most of which need not be witnessed by the eyes of a child. (In 1998 I watched a guy "go fishing" from the roof of his converted school bus by dangling a Bud can from a Zebco 33 while his two children leapt in the air to grab it.)

During the Rolex there is a full-on county fair staged adjacent to the International Horseshoe located inside oval turns one and two, and the best view of the racing is from the Ferris wheel as it reaches its peak. In the waters of Lake Lloyd, the rectangular pond that runs along the backstretch, a boat provided prerace parasail rides and a lunatic named "Zee" Ogletree was attempting the break the world record for number of miles travelled on a jet ski in a 24-hour period, run in conjunction with the race.

Then, as the race entered its third hour on Saturday night, the announcement actually went out that a "wine and cheese celebration" was beginning and was open to all.

For decades NASCAR fans referred to open wheel and sports car racers as "the wine and cheese crowd". Turns out they were quite literally right.

Back in '96 the grandstand was abuzz about celebrity racers Jason Priestly, Craig T. Nelson and Paul Newman. This year all the attention was heaped on Dr. McDreamy, aka Patrick Dempsey. He loved it when I told him that we'd actually met twenty years ago on the set of "Coupe De Ville", which was shot in my then-hometown of Travelers Rest, SC. His smile quickly faded, however, when I asked him how he felt about Izzie getting it on with a dead guy for the last six months on Grey's Anatomy. Apparently he's enjoyed that story line about as much as the rest of America.

Victor Newman Photography

Racing into a setting sun is tricky.

NASCAR doesn't allow computers in their cars or live telemetry feeds back to the pits during races. The Rolex 24 welcomes them with open arms. By my count Penske Racing alone was using more laptops than an online gaming convention.

In NASCAR everything—tires, gas cans, engines, even the cars themselves—are wheeled around the garage by hand. These sports car guys would use a John Deere Gator to go pick up a bottle of water. The result is a constant pit road rush hour, creating a rash of run-over toes and bruised backs of thighs as light duty golf carts and motor scooters zip all over the paddock.

And don't even get me started on the nail-biting final two hours of racing.

But the most glaring difference of all?

"Dude, have you seen these women?"

The NASCAR driver who uttered those words said that I could use the quote only if his name was never attached to it. And this one too…

"Seriously, it's like those crazy collagen-lipped women you see lounging around in those weird perfume ads in Vanity Fair. And none of them speak English."

Somebody send them to the media parking lot. My man Jim needs an interpreter.

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