I totally spaced the Rolex 24 Hours of Daytona this weekend. I came in from my parents', and Adam was bouncing on the couch, clapping and pointing. "Twenty-four! Daytona! David Hobbes! Bob Varsha! Justin Wilson in fourth!"

We're still six weeks out from the beginning of Formula One, and I've been more than a little edgy in the wait for my fix. And March 12 is never going to get here.

Awesome doesn't begin to describe how it feels to hear Bob say something dumb and see a former F1 driver advance up to first and geek out over Danica Patrick's seat bolster. Awesome. God, I've missed racing.

So, back to Danica Patrick and her giant-assed seat bolster. Honestly, it's the size of your standard toddler's car seat because she's so friggin' tiny. She's so small, Adam is compelled to comment on it. "She's so friggin' tiny! I mean, look at the size of that bolster!"

"Dude, Rusty Wallace is her co-driver. He's so not tiny."

Adam gave me one of those blank looks that means he did not understand the string of words that just popped out of my mouth. "He's a NASCAR guy," I explained.

He rolled his eyes. "Friggin' NASCAR guys."

Tomorrow's been cleared so we can watch the rest of the coverage. But the bummer of the weekend is the lack of overnight coverage. Overnight is always the best part of any 24 hour endurance race. You have the exhausted announcers who will read any factoid the intern hands them, the exhausted field guys conducting exhausted interivews with exhausted racers...and the cars start breaking down. Back in the days of pre-Fox ownership, Speedvision did wall-to-wall coverage. Now? A Tommy Lee Jones movie neither one of us has herd of, and infomercials.

"Friggin' Fox," Adam grumbled as he flipped through tonight's listings.

Anyway, we're at the four hour mark. Don't spoil it for us.