Motor Head {road scholar}: It's an RV life

ON THE TRAIL OF THE NASCAR NOMAD

By Newt Briggs

On NASCAR Sunday at the Las Vegas Motor Speedway, there are a few ideal spots from which to view the race. As far as the grandstands go, the seats above the start/finish line provide a choice panorama of the track, and, of course, it's hard to top a spot in the trenches on pit row. But the true motorsports mecca is the infield--the hallowed ground where authentic gearheads come to eat, drink, sleep and occasionally watch the cars.

Dotted with barbecues, garbage bins and Porta-Potties, the infield serves as both campground and bleachers for the elusive NASCAR nomad--the mobile motorhead who chases stock cars like surfers chase waves. Unlike the rank-and-file suckers who fight traffic, wait in lines, sit in designated rows and then scurry out of the stadium like lab rats, these denizens of the infield stay all week and set their own race day agendas.

As Jack Bowman, an infield pilgrim from Henderson, says, "In the stands, all you can do is watch the race. You can't stretch out or take a snooze or make yourself a sandwich. You're at the mercy of everyone sitting around you. Down here, you've got the freedom to do whatever you want. For my money, this is the only place to be."

But all this liberty comes at a cost. Besides the fee required for infield access (weekend RV spots start at $550), an aspiring nomad must possess a minimum of accessories--some costly, some fermented--in order to take full advantage of the infield experience. Although these vary widely from RV to RV--one family even toted in a foosball table last weekend--there are a few that boil down to absolute essentials.

A recreational vehicle. Whether impelled by its own power or towed by a suitable truck, a functional RV is the epicenter of all race day activities. Inside Phil and Mary Buford's RV--a 36-foot Fleetwood Bounder with slideout living room--friends and family huddle around a buffet lunch while sports radio drones in the background.

"If you're going to park down on the track, you've got to be in a motorhome," says Phil, who also cautions about the importance of reserving a spot early. "First off, the roof is the only good place to sit when you want to watch the race. And second, it's a nice, cool place to lay down when you start feeling a little woozy from all the food and the sun."

Earplugs or, better yet, ear muffs or, better still, headsets. To say the infield is loud is like saying Marilyn Manson is peculiar--it may be true but it barely scratches the surface of the issue. When the cars pass in packs, the infield is as loud as the front row of a 1985 Van Halen stadium show (each race car produces about 100 decibels of engine noise). And when they stretch out along the track, it's impossible to sustain conversation without shouting directly into someone's ear.

For many, throwaway foam earplugs are enough to stave off serious tympanic damage, but for diehard fans, the best compromise is a radio headset. Of course, whether they end conversations with phrases like "roger" and "10-4" is a matter of personal preference.

A television. Even though it might seem like something of a contradiction to bring a TV to a live sporting event, many fans absolutely swear by it--if nothing else but for the crash replays.

"The problem with watching the race in real time is that I only get to see a crash once," says Ned Miller, who sits at a table in a friend's RV as the cars near lap 100 of 267. "And half the time I don't even see it because I'm on the wrong side of the track or I'm doing something else. On the TV, I get to see it in slow motion from five different camera angles."

Beer and lots of it. Although people tend to bring a lot of different things to NASCAR events, the one constant is beer (mostly Budweiser because Dale Earnhardt Jr., the most popular driver on the circuit, drives the Bud car). All around the infield, coolers, empty cans and sunburnt drunkards lay strewn across the grass. And although Mike Bowman--a retired longshoreman from Southern California--insists that beer "ain't worth a damn" unless it is accompanied by a handle bottle of rum, few seem to share his opinion.

A travel flagpole. According to Paul Dawkins, the flagpole is the most tragically overlooked accessory among RV pilgrims. Not only does it permit infield patriots to display Old Glory, it gives them the chance to show off driver loyalty by flying team flags. And, says Dawkins, "it`s the best way to find the RV when you're too drunk to remember where you parked." Amen to that.