Tuesday, February 11th Daytona Beach, FL

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We arrive in Daytona Beach for the highly anticipated Speedweek Tuesday afternoon, just in time to pick up our mail (Thanks moms!) and infield parking passes from the local FedEx office. We're then off in search of a place to park the trailer/Porsche for the week -- the infield does not allow trailers. After a bit of good luck and perseverance, we finally locate a suitable campground and unhitch. Then, a quick stop at Home Depot for leg extensions for our Daquiri Whacker, and we're off to the RV staging area at Daytona International Speedway at 6pm.

Well, the staging area was crowed with RV's of all types and sizes. Unfortunately, it was also very muddy. A huge mac-daddy RV, clearly almost a million bucks worth, slipped his way into axle deep mud, blocking our path and delaying our entrance into the infield by at least two hours.

Finally, we're led by police escort to "staging area #2", just outside the track. There are hundreds of RV's there waiting to be led across the track and into their designated spot. So, we wait yet another hour, and eventually we are at the front of the line. They take our tickets and then ask us to open ALL of the storage bins around the bottom of the RV for inspection. There are bomb sniffing dogs running around, well, sniffing. Inspectors enter the RV and head to the back to verify that we aren't attempting to "smuggle" in people. Clearly, they didn't believe the "Two Guys" part of "Two Guys in a Monster RV" plastered all over the side of the RV.

After clearing security, we're led underneath the grandstand and actually out onto the track. We've got a good 1/2 mile to go down the track, and Phil took the opportunity to really open her up -- he floored it and was soon reaching the blistering speed of 45 mph. While he briefly entertained "going for a lap", caution took hold and he decided to just stop and enter the infield RV parking area.

Our spot, in the "Reserved Specialty Vehicle Parking Area," otherwise known as the GREEN area, was fantastic. We were trackside, turn 4, and -- as we were told often throughout the week -- parked right in front of the place where the revered Dale Earnhardt came to rest two years prior. There was a big sign on the fence there, "Dale Earnhardt, Watching from a Higher Grandstand."

We're finally set up when we meet our new neighbors, Guy and Terry, owners of America's Family Campground in Godeffrey, NY. "Come on over for some chili," Guy says, and soon we're chowing down on some of the best chili ever made. This was the first of many hospitalities they showed us during our residence.

So, it's nearly 11pm, but we're too excited about the new adventure to do anything but what we nearly always do: go out on the town. Quick showers and we're off. We get a taxi out to a place called the Daytona Alehouse, just a few miles from the track. We order some excellent chicken wings, Rafe gets major vibe from the almost cute waitress, and we play some pool.

After a few beers, we play a few games with the waitstaff from the local Ruby Tuesday's, out on their night off. Pretty soon, we're one of the gang and we're cutting up and having a great time. Soon thereafter, a nice young looking 30 year old semi-stumbled over to hit on Phil. Pam, a sales representative from Atlanta, was in town for a few days to work with a few clients. Considering we were out until nearly 4am that night, we really wonder how much work she could have done the next day!

On the way back to the RV, we have our weekly Roshambo for the bedroom -- a very important one, as it would turn out. Phil, having slept on the pullout for the first three weeks of the tour, was particularly motivated. He knew that the bedroom would offer some kind of insulation from the practice laps that were due to start at 8am nearly every day of the next week. With a bit of foresight and planning and a random number generator, Phil was able to beat Rafe 3-0 and take the bedroom.

Wednesday, February 12th Daytona Beach, FL

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It's 8am, we've had four hours of sleep, but it's the type of sleep that is not particularly restful. It's humid in Florida, and the copious beers consumed the night before combined with the prevalent smokers made for a fitful night. Phil is in bed with three absolutely gorgeous women, one red head, one blonde, one brunette. Things are just starting to heat up when the bed rattles, the windows shake, and he awakes out of what was going to be a brilliant dream to what sounds like Armageddon...

If, like us, you've never been asleep trackside at a NASCAR race, we'll do our best to describe the shattering sound: Go out to your local international airport, find the closest 747, and tape your ear to a bullhorn that is attached to the engine during takeoff. This stuff is, well, loud doesn't even begin to cover it. Needless to say, we were not getting any more sleep.

So we got up and went up on top of the RV to check out the action. Our prime spot allowed views from the middle of turn 4 to half way down the home stretch. At 188 mile per hour, the cars would come into and out of view in a total of 20 seconds or so.

After 1pm, just before the start of the Gatorade Twin 125's, we decided to strike back and make some noise of our own. We took the American Tailgater Daquiri Whacker up on to the roof and fired her up. We quickly drew a crowd and demonstrated to all the amazing blender, making some of the best Margaritas on the block. They were a hit!

At 5:45, we went live on KNBR, 680AM in San Francisco for our bi-weekly report to Hall of Fame basketball player, Rick Barry. The interview was a good one for us; each time we learn a little more about how to do them. Afterwards we were celebrating with yet more Whacking.

And after all that action, we were ready for another night on the town. So, down to Ruby Tuesday's for dinner and the newest product from American Tailgater, "Golo Golf", a golfing dice game. We were playing low stakes, but after Phil lost 6 games in a row, we picked up the pace and started gambling a bit. Self restraint and a quick grab of the dice by Rafe saved the game from physical destruction after Phil's ninth consecutive loss. Clearly, Golo is not Phil's game.

Stuck and steaming, Phil convinced Rafe to head down to the beach area, a good 15 minute taxi ride. Little did Rafe know that Phil had a plan: find a bar with a pool table and get even from the Golo disaster. We settle in to the Spring Break icon, Razzles, and order a drink and some quarters for the pool table (Phil: love it when a plan comes together.)

Like the Golo, we start off small, and after Rafe's fifth consecutive loss, we bump up the stakes. A few games later, and Phil leapfrogs Rafe. What would have been severe-mega-tilt was somewhat tempered by the extremely cute blonde, "Ginger," that had taken up residence next to our pool table and had extremely clear intentions to teach Rafe a few things about sticks and balls.

Having gained some confidence after the pool game and having completely lost his wing man, Phil headed to the dance floor. NASCAR events are not for the faint of heart, and the ratio was a mind blowing 8-1 guys to girls, with the majority of the 1 sporting an 8-1 ratio of fingers to teeth (mathematical corollaries left as an excercise to the reader). The bar closing at 2:30 was a complete blessing, and Phil somehow made his way to a taxi and back to the track, Rafeless, looking forward to sleeping in the comfortable bed for only the second night since Jan 21st. Unfortunately, he was forced by circumstance to sleep on the couch yet again.

Thursday, February 13th Daytona Beach, FL

We're a bit slow getting up and going. But, the cars turning left were calling, and by noon, we were Whacking yet more Daquiri's and enjoying the action from atop the RV.

And then, a short taxi ride out to the FedEx office to pick up 400 UltimateBet.com Frisbees, which would become the free giveaway hit of the entire infield. A few hours later, and every camper in the Green area had American Tailgater catalogs and an UltimateBet Frisbee. For the record, NASCAR fans are extremely eager to get just about anything for free.

Inspired by our new found profession, we gather the video camera and head to "Tent City", just a few hundred yards from our reserved parking area.

Have you seen Thunderdome? The Mad Max inspired Tent City is a visual, auditory, and olfactory orgy. The fans there erect monstrous tree-house like structures atop their pickup trucks. These structures allow them to see part of Turn 4. Obviously, the higher the platform, the more they can see. Everyone is grilling something. And, of course, everyone is drinking something.

We weave our way through the minefield of spent cans of Bud Light, Coors Light, Miller Lite, and, the most prevalent beer seen throughout the infield, Budweiser (popular Earnhardt, Jr. is a driver of the Budweiser car). We were wearing our matching USA shirts, and we had the bigboy video camera. This combination, we have found, makes us look suspiciously like a film crew or news reporters. The remote possibility of ending up on television makes even the shyest NASCAR fan perform unimaginable feats of stupidity.

Out of tape and tired, we head back to the RV and ready ourselves for a big night out. We've chosen the nightclub, Fuel, where the "Racetrack Girls Go Nutz!" van is parked outside. Having met the organizers briefly the night before, we knew this "Girls Gone Wild" knockoff would have to be seen. Ah, the things we do for the sake of reportage.

So, we arrive at Fuel, pay the $20 cover (all you can drink!), and we're immediately escorted back to the private room secured for debauchery by the brilliant Wally and John of "RaceTrack Girls Go Nutz!" As we arrive, it's clear that we will be hanging out there most of the night. There are two young girls, maybe, just maybe 21, signing over all of their rights for their image, video, and sounds to be used for any purpose whatsoever. A few minutes later, and they are making out on the couch, pulling off each other's bras, and generally doing things that grown men only usually see when watching movies in a hotel room in Italy or Denmark.

Also in the house happened to be U.S. National Team soccer star, Lorrie Fair. As predicted, we danced and hung out there for most of the night, waiting patiently to be invited to the RTGGN(z)! beach house, where things are supposedly much less tame. Well, the invitation never really materialized, so we left the club and stumbled back to the RV after closing time.

Friday, February 14th Daytona Beach, FL

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Happy Valentine's Day!

A truck race today, yippee! Seriously, we have stock cars, do stock trucks really add anything to the sport of racing? Not that watching 30 trucks go 180 miles an hour isn't exciting and all, but why trucks? Well, as we were informed by a race expert, there is a very good reason to have a pickup truck go 180 -- at that speed, their aerodynamics are different and they are more likely to crash. And crashing, it seems, it what its all about.

A few hours after the race, we head down to the beach area and the Plaza Resort and Spa. Masterfoods, the company behind M&M's, invited us to a private party there. We head down and arrive in time to meet the car owner, Richard Yates, as well as the accomplished driver, Elliott Saddler. After speaking with Elliott for 10 minutes or so, we can honestly say that we are big fans of the 38 car. Incidently, Elliott was runner-up in last year's 500.

Shortly thereafter, we're talking to one of M&M's brand managers. "You wouldn't believe how many M&M's are made each year," he says. Well, never one to miss an opportunity for a wager, Rafe sets a line of 1 Billion, Phil takes the under, and is rewarded with $10 (400,000,000). "And, how many different colors are commercially available worldwide?" Again, Rafe sets the line, 35, and Phil takes the under... 21... Cha-Ching! Up $20!

Of course, the real reason for the visit was an effort to convince M&M's to sponsor the Ultimate Sports Adventure. We're happy to report that we were somewhat successful on that count. We'd like to go on record now and say that it has absolutely nothing to do with the almost incriminating photos we have of their representative that we partied with later that night.

After the cocktail party, we "huddle" and decide to head out. On our way to the nightclub-du-nuit, we stop and, for the sake of our beloved sponsor WebTickets.com, distribute 500 flyers the old fashioned way: flyer under windshield wiper. We did our best to target the few cars around that seemed to be owned by people that might actually have enough money to buy Daytona 500 tickets.

After the flyers, it was still far too early to hit a club, and being the hearty reporters that we are, we convince ourselves to hit Daytona's "best" strip club, Lollipops. Valentine's Day. 200,000 NASCAR fans. Strip Club. Yes, these are the ingredients, that when combined with alcohol, make for quite an interesting scene. We particularly enjoyed seeing the good ol' boys that brought their woman out for a nice romantic night: "Hey baby, let's go out for Valentine's day!"

That got old, quickly, and we were soon off to try to find some trouble. The 600 Club seemed to be the place, and after a quick scan of Razzles in a booty-call search for "Ginger" (who, apparently, misremembered her own cell phone number...), we're there. Just in time for the Coors Light bikini contest! Yeee Hawwww! Phil won $20 from Rafe by expertly selecting contestant #5.

Saturday, February 15th Daytona Beach, FL

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A Busch series race today, whatever that means, and Earnhardt Jr. in the #8 car, takes his third race of the week. Fans are ecstatic. P.J., owner of American Tailgater, flew down from Chicago to see how we were doing. I think he was quite impressed with our Whacking ability.

Around 1pm, we head down to the M&M hospitality RV. Brian, in charge of the M&M NASCAR events, came and picked us up in a souped up golf cart that will go over 40 mph. We hang out there eating free M&M's and drinking their beer for a few hours while watching the race. The clear highlight of the day came when the Match Light car spun out, hit the wall at an alarmingly high speed, and then had his gas can explode and spew flames out the backside of the car as he continued down the backstretch for a good 1/2 mile. We thought this must have been a marketing ploy by his sponsor.

On the walk back, Rafe notices an absolutely adorable blonde seemingly doing an interview with what looked to be a completely random fan. CBS-47/Fox-30 Jacksonville was on the camera. We decided to stop and "pitch" in an effort to make our publicist proud. Soon thereafter, Lindsay pulled up to the RV in the CBS-47 car and did a complete interview with us for the evening news and for the next day "Daytona Warmup Show."

The real action, we're told, is on the other side of the track. "Turn 1 is where it's all going off," we're told by our newest friends Aaron and Adam from Event One security, the guards at the gate on "late shift." And so, after our interview, we're off to turn 1 just before dark.

Wow! There we find girls, or humans that most closely resemble females, were willing to take off their shirts and slide down a greased pole for a strand of beads! Amazing! We watch that action for awhile, and then decided to find the "Karaoke" party. With a bit of convincing, namely the promise for two NASCAR girls to put two $5 bills down his pants, Phil sings New York, New York to a chorus line of NASCAR ass-kicking-high-kicking women. And no, he did not win the $100 first prize.

From there, we headed back to the RV, cleaned up, and then did what comes natural: get out on the town. "Ocean Deck is more your speed. The girls there are older," Aaron says. Thanks Aaron, we really appreciate the advice. But, as no other alternative seems to be as good and we've exhausted nearly every available night spot in Daytona, Ocean Deck it is. We're there by 10, and completely done with the place by midnight. Pretty good band, but weathering and age do nothing to help the average NASCAR female fan. We're done, and take a taxi back. "Hey," Rafe says, "why not give the Alehouse one more effort?"

"You're joking, right?" Phil questions. He's completely spent, tired, exhausted, and not at all feeling the vibe. "Sure, sounds good, but if there aren't 6 groups of single girls there mingling, you're paying the cover and first round of drinks and taxi back." Eager for affection, Rafe accepts the conditions. So, we arrive at the Alehouse, order $2.00 pints of Killian's, and survey the late Saturday night scene. There are exactly three good looking girls in the place, and we position ourselves at the center of the semi-circle they seem to have formed on the outskirts of the bar. We try to throw as much vibe as possible, a wink, a smile, an overly enthusiastic high five on a not too tough shot on the pool table. But, alas, our efforts are fruitless. It's back to the RV with dreams of the big event upcoming tomorrow.

Sunday, February 16th Daytona Beach, FL

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The big race day is finally upon us. We wake up a little after ten. The tension in the air is palpable, and all fans have their sights on the clouds overhead -- an ominous, sticky, low, dark gray mass that seems to be building.

Race festivities start around 12:45 with the passing overhead fighter jets, a stirring rendition of the national anthem by Mariah Carey (that chick gets around -- we just head her the previous Sunday at the NBA All-star game!), the Pledge of Allegiance, and of course, the convocational prayer, followed by the phrase we've all been longing to hear, "Gentlemen, start your engines!"

And a few minutes later, we were deafened as 30 of the fastest cars on the planet came roaring around the track. The first few laps are exciting, with the cars going three wide through turn four. But, hunger calls, so Phil gets down off the top of the RV and makes a few hamburgers.

At lap 50 or so, we notice that our Canadian friends in the RV next to us (five guys that flew down from central Canada to see their first NASCAR event for the week while drinking an absolutely incredible amount of alcohol) had somehow secured the attention of two young females. Now, the fact that there were two of them was not in and of itself interesting. The fact that both were looking longingly at the big blue RV and obviously questioning their choice was, however, very interesting. We shot them a little vibe from across the top, and then really turned on the charm by firing up the Daquiri Whacker -- a roaring engine being as close to a mating call for race girls as anything.

It wasn't long before "Rae Rae" came over to check things out. And not too much longer after that, the first of the rains started, causing a temporary suspension in racing activity. So, we watched coverage on the TV (switching channels to watch the golf tournament when Rae Rae would wander outside for a minute) and waited out the rain. After an hour or so, the race resumed.

After twenty more minutes, the black flag came out due to yet another more serious downpour. Michael Waltrip, in an odd-numbered car, won the race by default -- if more than half of the laps are completed, the race is deemed official. Phil was particularly happy about this outcome, as he had all odd-numbered cars for $10.

So it's just about dark, raining, and Rae Rae has more or less permanently camping inside the RV by this time. What else is left to do except sing a little karaoke? We fire up the machine and through excellent salesmanship, get the Canadian rockstars to come over and sing. And sing. And sing. We, of course, had no idea that these guys were such karaoke superstars! The drinks started really flowing, and without much warning, two of the guys take off all their clothes, exit the RV, jump the two protective fences, and streak across the speedway in the rain. Well done, gentlemen, a perfect ending to an enlightening week of NASCAR fun.