Expressing the sense of the Congress regarding the importance of motorsports.

Mr. Speaker, I thank the gentlewoman from Florida (Ms. Ros-Lehtinen), who is a great friend of mine, for yielding me this time.

House Concurrent Resolution 320 expresses the sense of Congress regarding the importance of motorsports in America. If we think about this, it is going to be a great 100-year centennial celebration. I also thank the gentleman from Florida (Mr. Boyd), who is my cosponsor on this resolution and also helped me to introduce this resolution to honor the 100-year anniversary, which is very important to Americans.

Mr. Speaker, 100 years ago the first sanctioned automobile race was held in Ormond Beach, Florida, on the beach, just slightly north of my district, in the district currently represented by the gentleman from Florida (Mr. Mica). We have come a long way in automobile racing and automobiles in the United States of America since then.

In 1903, automobiles were mostly for the well-off, the rich. These races were sponsored by the Ormond Hotel Association. It was a seasonal gathering place for wealthy northerns down on the beach in Florida, which is a great place to vacation no matter what decade or year or century it happens to be.

The 3-day tournament of time trials was held in March 1903 for the first time and set seven American records and two world records. The Ormond Challenge Cup, one of the first times an American speed race took place, Bullet Number 1 was owned by Alexander Winton and car Number 2 was Pirate owned by Ransom Olds of Oldsmobile fame; and they dueled each other in what is now known as drag racing. Bullet Number 1 won by two-tenths of a second.

For 8 years, Ormond Beach was the place to go, but ultimately beach racing migrated south to Daytona Beach, which is now a district shared by the gentleman from Florida (Mr. Mica) and myself. In 1936, stock car racing began on a 3.2 mile beach course. Cars ran 1.5 miles north on the beach, took a banked sand turn, and ran 1.5 miles back on a paved raceway and returned to the beach.

World War II stopped automobile racing; but at the end of World War II, a famous American racer, a hero to race fans, William ``Big Bill'' France, one of the first racers back in the 1930s, along with 18 other members, started NASCAR. NASCAR took root on the beach of Ponce Inlet, a beautiful place to visit whether a race fan or not. In 1948, NASCAR began racing there on a 2.2 mile track, one-half mile on the beach's hard-paved sands, and the other one-half mile on the paved South Atlantic Boulevard back.

Ultimately, we decided to get off the beach because there were too many fans gathering around the beach races on an annual basis in the Daytona Beach area. It was Bill France and his family that led the way. They wanted to move racing from the beach to a specially designed, challenging race course.

Starting in 1953, Mr. France started to build an inland race facility. The speedway opened in February 1959 with the first Daytona 500, a race that is famous to this very day. There were 41,000 fans that witnessed that first race, and today we still watch and enjoy that race on an annual basis. This year there are some 13 million fans who will attend NASCAR events in the United States of America.

But it is not just Daytona Beach and Ormond Beach; I am proud of my district's record in terms of establishing the first creative, exciting races for America, but the truth of the matter is now we have the Indianapolis 500. The first Indianapolis 500 was held in 1911, and the race was won with a top speed of 74.6 miles per hour. I note on a collateral basis, that is not enough to get a driver ahead of the next car on the Florida Turnpike today; but the truth is, we have come a long way.

Today's auto racing facilities have come an awful long way from the early races on the beach. Motorsports entertainment complexes nowadays accommodate tens of thousands of fans on tracks that are safer for drivers and spectators alike. Facilities like Daytona Beach International Speedway and other facilities across the country have evolved into what we would have to consider full-fledged theme parks for constant year-around entertainment for families and racing enthusiasts alike.

Mr. Speaker, I want to say that research and development of the vehicles that Americans use every day on the streets have been facilitated by the challenges that we have on NASCAR fast-track speedways around the country. What started as amusement for wealthy individuals in the Florida sunshine in the winter now provides not just entertainment for millions of Americans, but also helps us beef up our technological, our safety, and our capabilities across the board.

I think it is fitting that we recognize a sport that on a daily basis gets TV ratings the same as any of the major football or basketball sports; and if we look at attendance at the parks where these NASCAR events are run, they are three times what we will get for the Super Bowl last year, this year, and every year; and they do that in some 31 States that have these events.

Mr. Speaker, will the gentlewoman yield?

Mr. Speaker, I would tell the gentlewoman from Florida that there is a November 10 article in National Review magazine that on the front cover refers to America now as ``NASCAR Nation,'' and I include a copy of that article for the Record.

NASCAR Nation

one journalist's journey of discovery

(By John Derbyshie)

Forget about the Soccer Mom, object of obsessive interest

to political strategists in the last two presidential

elections. Two election cycles is as much concentrated

attention as a voter bloc can expect to get in these fast-

changing times. The candidates of 2004 have fixed their

sights on a new quarry: the NASCAR Dad. So, at any rate, we

are told by Democratic pollster Celinda Lake, who coined the

term. A NASCAR Dad is a rural or small-town voter, most

likely white and living in the South. Once upon a time he was

a reliable Democrat, but he has been voting steadily

Republican in recent elections for ``cultural'' reasons--

reasons having to do with guns, religion, patriotism, and

lifestyle. What, exactly, is his connection with NASCAR--the

National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing? In the hope

of finding out, I recently attended a major NASCAR event at

the Talladega track in Alabama. Before I report on what I

found, here is some background on the sport NASCAR

represents.

The term ``stock car'' refers to a street automobile from a

dealer's stock, the kind you and I drive, as opposed to the

custom-built pod-and-strut mutants you see in Formula One

racing. When ordinary citizens began to purchase automobiles

in large numbers in the 1930s and 1940s, some of them were

taken with the urge to race against other drivers on unpaved

local dirt tracks. Spectators assembled to watch. Drivers

tinkered with their engines to give them more speed. This was

happening all over the country by the late 1940s, when NASCAR

was founded, but it was happening much more in the South than

elsewhere. Wherever it happened, though, it was from the

beginning mainly a working-class interest, taken up by young

men who liked fiddling with automobiles and exhibiting

physical courage among their peers.

A notable early attempt to bring stock-car racing to wider

attention was Tom Wolfe's long article ``The Last American

Hero'' in the March 1965 issue of Esquire. Wolfe's subject

was Junior Johnson, who raced from 1953 to 1966, and was

thereafter involved in the sport as an owner until 1995. One

of stock-car racing's early superstars, Johnson had perfected

his skills by working as a driver for his father's moonshine

business in the Appalachian foothills, racing along remote

country roads by night to outwit the ``revenuers''--agents of

the federal Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. Johnson

Senior was one of the biggest operators of illegal whiskey

stills in the South.

Tom Wolfe had no difficulty getting some color out of

Junior Johnson and his neighbors in Wilkes County, N.C. While

insisting that ``very few grits, Iron Boy overalls,

clodhoppers or hats with ventilation holes up near the crown

enter into this story,'' Wolfe nonetheless managed to leave

his readers with the impression that stock-car racing was a

sport favored pretty exclusively by white Southern rustics--

the kind of people who keep coon dogs and, in common with the

late Hank Williams, believe that ``hill'' rhymes with

``real.'' Junior Johnson's own take on the episode was of

course from the other side of the cultural divide: ``That

Wolfe guy was something else. He showed up down here in

Wilkes County talkin' funny with a New York accent [Wolfe is

from Virginia], and wearin' fancy clothes.''

Officials of NASCAR nowadays wince at this Southern-rustic

image. Stock-car racing is, they insist, a sport for

everyone, an inclusive sport, a family sport. For 30 years

they have been trying to shake off those connotations of

liquor-running good ol' boys and big-haired women. They have

had some success in spreading interest around the country,

but they have not yet persuaded America's cognitive elites to

take stock-car racing seriously. This was apparent in

February 2001, when NASCAR superstar Dale Earnhardt was

killed in a crash at the Daytona 500. Earnhardt was mourned

extravagantly by millions of racing fans. Meanwhile, from

executive suites and faculty common rooms, from the wood-

paneled corridors of prestigious law firms, from the

bustling, ``diversity''-obsessed editorial offices of

broadsheet newspapers and network-TV newsrooms, rose the

plaintive cry: ``Dale who?''

Yet if you look at the numbers, this is not a minor sport.

NASCAR's Winston Cup, the biggest of the three ``major

league'' series in the stock-car-racing calendar, drew 6.7

million ticketed spectators for 36 events last year, an

average of 186,000 per event. By way of comparison, paid

attendance for the NFL in 2002 averaged 66,000 per event, for

major league base 28,000, for NBA basketball 17,000. TV

viewership for a NASCAR race runs around 15 to 20 million,

the same as for many major-league baseball playoff games.

What is that all these people are watching? What's the

appeal? There must be some deep desire in the human psyche to

watch human beings race vehicles round a circuit. Chariot

races were, after all, an obsession of both the Romans and

the Byzantines. I went to Alabama seeking enlightenment.

far from disney

Your first impression of Talladega speedway is of sheer

size. The track is an approximate oval, with grandstands at

both the long sides. Seen from one grandstand, the opposite

one seems to shimmer in the misty distance. It is in fact

only three-fifths of a mile away, but appears farther because

of the haze generated by huge quantities of traffic all

around, and by barbecue grills on the infield. Oh, the

infield--I had better explain about the Talladega infield.

The infield--212 acres at Talladega--is the interior of the

oval. You get to it by driving through one of three tunnels

under the track. Much of the infield is taken up with

maintenance areas, garages, administrative buildings, and

access roads, but the remainder--around 120 acres--is

available to fans. And here they are, the hard core of stock-

car-racing fandom. And here are their vehicles: Your second

impression of the speedways is that you have never in your

life seen so many RVs (that is, recreational vehicles,

campers) all in one place. The infield fan areas are filled

with folk who arrive typically a day or two before the big

race and just camp out there in the infield. Some of the RVs

are improvised. One popular model consists of an old school

bus painted some improbable color, with metal railings welded

around the roof so the occupants can stand up there to watch

the race.

NASCAR's attempts to Disneyfy their sport have made little

headway in the Talladega infield. The crowd is noisy and

beery. They wear denim shorts and T-shirts, baseball caps or

bandannas. I see a lot of tattoos and a lot of Confederate

flags. The track's security people inspect the interior of

each vehicle before allowing it to park, and I was told it

has been ``some years'' since there was a shooting on the

infield, but things still get rowdy, particularly the night

before a big race. (Among the track's other administrative

facilities is a small jail.) Rowdy, and raunchy too: The

Mardi Gras custom of beads for skin (you give the lady a

string of beads, she briefly exposes her chest) has come up

to Talladega, and it is common to see girls with several

strings of beads round their necks--although, as one of my

NASCAR minders noted wistfully, ``The girls you'd like to see

doing it aren't the ones doing it.''

I watched the first few minutes of the race from the

infield, near the starting line. The 43 competing vehicles

circle the track slowly, two by two, behind a pace car. Each

car's position in line has been determined by pre-race

qualifying laps. As they come to the starting line, the pace

car pulls off the track, a green flag is waved and the

drivers throttle up to full power. Everyone had told me that

this is the most thrilling moment of a race, and they did not

lie. That mighty surge of engines, the even mightier roar of

the crowd, the smell of gasoline and rubber, all combine into

an extraordinary sensory experience. What follows is

necessarily something of anticlimax, especially as it goes on

for three hours or more. The lead cars tend to form a large

``pack,'' so you get a small reprise of that starting thrill

each time the pack passes your viewing point, but after half

of an hour or so, as the faster cars lapped the slower ones.

I lost track of who was leading.

I wandered down to the pit area. Cars need to be refueled

as several points in a 500-mile race, and wheels need to be

changed. A driver loses position when he makes a pit stop, of

course, and part of the strategy of racing--there is a great

deal of strategy in this sport--is judging the best time to

make your stops. The pit work is done with terrific dispatch,

by teams who practice endlessly at shaving tenths of a

second off their turnaround time. The team I watched--it

was driver Bill Elliott's--changed four wheels and

refueled the car all in less than 15 seconds. They have a

trick of pre-fixing the lugs in place on the replacement

wheels with an elastic cement. Then, when the old wheel is

off, on goes the new one, bang!, and the power wrench

secures the lugs, DZ!-DZ!-DZ!-DZ!-DZ! ``Slicker 'n snot on

a doorknob,'' pronounced the team leader with satisfaction

as Elliott vroomed away.

Up close the cars look surprisingly small and flimsy. Their

``stock'' nature is, at this point in the evolution of the

sport, highly theoretical. Eligible models in the Winston Cup

series are the Chevy Monte Carlo, Pontiac Grand Prix, Ford

Taurus, and Dodge Intrepid, but none of the cars I saw bore

much resemblance to the street models of those marques. None

of their side bodywork panels paused to include a door, for

instance; the driver climbs in and out through his side

window (which has no glass). An owner I spoke with, who had a

Monte Carlo entered in the race, described to me in loving

detail how his mechanics hand-tool all the care parts in his

75,000-square-foot machine shop. I interrupted him to ask:

``You hand-make everything? So where, exactly, does Chevrolet

come in?'' He looked a little flustered. ``Oh, you know, they

supply some parts . . . the chassis design . . . ''

It is commonly said that car-racing fans go to the track in

the hope of seeing a grisly crash. From my own encounters

with fans on the infield and in the stands, I don't believe

this. Aside from the sensory thrills of speed and noise, and

the rude social pleasures of the infield, the main appeal of

the sport, for most fans, lies in rooting for their favorite

drivers. Each one has some points of character, personal

history, or driving style that endear him to, or repel, some

section of the fan base. A few are wildly popular with

practically everyone: Dale Earnhardt Sr. was, and his son,

Dale Jr., now is. (``On account of his daddy,'' a lady fan in

the stands said fondly when I asked why.) A few are widely

disliked. Kurt Busch, a fast-rising young star known for . .

. unorthodox driving tactics, is a villain to

traditionalists, and to the kind of Southerner who believes

in maintaining the exquisite manners of the region even when

you are trying to kill someone. When the drivers were

individually announced during the pre-race proceedings at

Talladega, his name was greeted with a great outbreak of

booing from the fans.

What then of those stereotypes the NASCAR suits so

strenuously try to distance themselves from? The Southern

bias, for example? Since Talladega, smack plumb in the heart

of the Heart of Dixie, is the only track I have ever been to,

my personal experience of the sport has not been well

balanced, and I shall dutifully report that you can attend a

stock-car race in any part of the country. There are major

tracks in California, Kansas, and New Hampshire. The

mathematician in me wants to check the numbers, though, and

the numbers suggest the following broad truth: Half of this

sport belongs to the South, while the other half is spread

out among all the rest of us.

Take the location of tracks, for example. Defining the

South to be the old Confederacy plus Kentucky, of the 21

major tracks (not counting road courses) in the U.S., 11 are

in the South. These Southern tracks have 15.4 of the

available 32 miles of roadway and 1.31 million of the total

2.46 million grandstand sets. Over a half, nearly a half, and

over a half. It is the same with the 43 drivers at Talladega:

I tallied 21 drivers from the South; the next biggest

regional group was from the Midwest, with 11 drivers.

Every one of these 43 drivers, by the way, was a white

male. None had a Hispanic surname, though Christian

Fittipaldi is from Sao Paulo, Brazil. The median age of the

drivers was over 39--older than I would have expected. Every

one older than 34 was married, with a median 3.5 children.

The Southernness, whiteness, maleness, and (though I am

going out on a limb here) heterosexuality of the sport offer

obvious openings to PC inquisitors. Last June, for example, a

board member of Jesse Jackson's Rainbow/PUSH operation told

reporters that stock-car racing is ``the last bastion of

white supremacy.'' This was a counterstrike in a campaign by

Jackson's critics to get NASCAR to stop contributing to

Rainbow/PUSH, on the grounds that the funds end up mostly in

the pockets of Jackson, his relatives, and his mistresses.

The campaign was eventually successful and NASCAR stopped

their contributions. In the conversations I had at Talladega,

fan approval was unanimous.

There was nothing racist about that approval, though. Among

the celebrities introduced onstage during the pre-game show

at Talladega were the current Miss America and football great

Reggie White, both black. They were cheered as loudly as

anyone--Reggie White especially so, for having taken a strong

anti-Jackson line in the summer's controversy. It is true

that NASCAR fans are overwhelmingly white, but they have

nothing against black people. It is only that, like much of

the rest of the country, they are sick of the racial-guilt

industry, and most particularly of Jesse Jackson and his

self-enriching shakedown schemes. And although NASCAR has cut

the tie with Jackson, it maintains a busy program of

``diversity internships'' for minority college students.

The reason for the paucity of black drivers and owners--

there are a handful--is captured by Adam Bellow in his book

In Praise of Nepotism: ``In auto racing, an equipment-

intensive sport with a high financial barrier to entry, it

pays to have family connections.'' In fact, the NASCAR

personnel database reads like the First Book of Chronicles,

with drivers begetting drivers and owners in apparently

endless succession.

The social appeal of stock-car racing is wider than it used

to be, and getting still wider, with college logos now

featuring among the ads that festoon race-car bodywork. A

sport built around such a strong network of family

connections is, however, going to grow away from its roots

only very gradually. This remains a conservative sport. That

does not mean, of course, that its fan base can be guaranteed

to vote for conservatives. The folk I mingled with at

Talladega the other day were still largely working- and

lower-middle-class. If they were to lose their jobs in a

major recession, they would not stop to ask whether the

President in charge at the time called himself a conservative

or a liberal. Likewise, while they will cheer on their

commander in chief if he pursues a determined war against our

nation's enemies, they will not long tolerate U.S. fatalities

in a drawn-out politicized conflict where vigorous action is

restrained by deference to the opinions of foreigner hecklers

or self-anointed domestic elites.

I am going to leave it to professional analysts to decide

whether NASCAR Dads will be decisive in the 2004 elections,

and just register the following impression that I brought

away from Talladega with me: Whoever comes into stock-car

racing, whether as driver, or owner, or fan, or political

pollster, or

just inquisitive outsider, will find a sport in which

physical courage is admired, family bonds are treasured, the

nation's flag is honored, and the proper point of balance

between courteous restraint and necessary aggression is

constantly debated. I greatly enjoyed my day at the races. If

NASCAR fans really do form a voting bloc, I would much rather

they were on my side than the other. I am glad to have made

the acquaintance of a thrilling, noisy, colorful, commercial,

very American sport.

Mr. Speaker, I yield myself such time as I may consume.

Mr. Speaker, I rise in support of H. Con. Res. 320 and commend the gentleman from Florida (Mr. Feeney) for introducing this legislation.

Since March 26, 1903, when the first automobile race was held on a beach in Volusia County, Florida, motorsports races have been held in every American State. Millions of Americans enjoy the excitement and speed of motorsports brought to them by such organizations as the Championship Auto Racing Teams, Grand American Road Racing, Indy Racing League, the Sports Club of America, the National Association of Stock Car Automobile Racing, and others.

The research and development of vehicles used in motorsports competition contribute to the improvement of safety and technology of motor vehicles used by the general public. Additionally, motorsports activities contribute millions of dollars to local and State economies as well as to the national economy.

As America continues to grow and develop and as we continue to exercise our creativity and ingenuity, and as we find additional ways for recreation, many people are beginning to view this as not only a spectator sport but also something that they would learn to participate in themselves.

Again I commend the gentleman from Florida (Mr. Feeney) for introducing this resolution and urge its swift passage.

Mr. Speaker, I yield back the balance of my time.

Mr. Speaker, I move to suspend the rules and agree to the concurrent resolution (H. Con. Res. 320) expressing the sense of the Congress regarding the importance of motorsports.

Mr. Speaker, I ask unanimous consent that all Members may have 5 legislative days within which to revise and extend their remarks on the concurrent resolution under consideration.

Mr. Speaker, I yield myself such time as I may consume.

Mr. Speaker, Americans have loved speed since anyone can remember, and that is why I commend the gentleman from Florida (Mr. Feeney) for introducing House Concurrent Resolution 320 that expresses the sense of the Congress regarding the importance of motorsports.

Mr. Speaker, I yield such time as he may consume to the gentleman from Florida (Mr. Feeney).

(Mr. FEENEY asked and was given permission to revise and extend his remarks, and include extraneous material.)

Mr. Speaker, I yield myself such time as I may consume.

Mr. Speaker, I would say to the gentleman from Florida (Mr. Feeney) that he confirmed what I heard from Danielle from the office of the gentleman from Texas (Mr. DeLay), and the soccer moms of the 1990s have been replaced by the NASCAR dads of this century, or the NASCAR families of this century.

I yield to the gentleman from Florida.

Mr. Speaker, I yield back the balance of my time.

Mr. Speaker, on that I demand the yeas and nays.

Mr. Speaker, I was not present for rollcall vote 634, the Captive Wildlife Safety Act (H.R. 1006); rollcall vote 635, Expressing the sense of Congress regarding the importance of motorsports (H. Con. Res. 320); rollcall vote 636, National Museum of African-American History and Culture Act (H.R. 3491); rollcall 637, Berkley Motion to Instruct Conferees; rollcall 638, Mutual Fund Integrity and Fee Transparency Act (H.R. 2420); rollcall 640, Honoring the victims of the Cambodian genocide (H. Con. Res. 83); rollcall 641, Honoring the Seeds of Peace (H. Con. Res. 288); rollcall 642, Commending Afghan Women (H. Res. 393); rollcall 643, Recognizing the Fifth Anniversary of the signing of the International Religious Freedom Act (H. Res. 423); and rollcall 644, Fairness to Contact Lens Consumer Act (H.R. 3140).

Had I been present, I would have voted ``yea'' for rollcall votes 634, 635, 636, 638, 640, 641, 642, 643, and 644. I would also vote ``nay'' for rollcall vote 637.

Mr. Speaker, on Wednesday, November 19, I did not vote on the following measures, because of family commitments, and would like to include in the Record how I would have voted, had I been present: On H.R. 1006, I would have voted ``yea''; on H. Con. Res. 320, I would have voted ``yea''; on H.R. 3491, I would have voted ``yea''; on rollcall No. 637, to instruct conferees on H.R. 1, I would have voted ``yea''; on H.R. 2420 I would have voted ``yea''; on H. Res. 427, I would have voted ``yea''; on H. Con. Res. 83, I would have voted ``yea''; on H. Con. Res. 288, I would have voted ``yea''; on H. Res. 393, I would have voted ``yea''; on H. Res. 423, I would have voted ``yea''; and on H.R. 3140, I would have voted ``yea.''