COLUMN: Bistros, bologna and whatever empanadas are

            HOMESTEAD, Fla. - Putting aside other issues - geographic, socio-economic, preferential, popular, political, etc. - Homestead-Miami Speedway is a pleasant place to end the NASCAR season.

            This thought wafted with the wind through the open window of a rental car as it glided slowly down an avenue lined with palm trees in 70-degree weather at 9 a.m. in November. At night the moon was almost full, and once the sun rose on Sunday, the sky was uncluttered by clouds.

            This isn't a typical track. Its walls are a pastel shade of green. The dominant colors are all faded: green and yellow, mainly, with the occasional hint of pink and blue. To find such colors in Darlington, one has to buy bath décor.

            A few years ago, Ford Motor Company was fond of the slogan "form follows function." Perhaps that's fallen into disfavor now, but the slogan of this track could be "function follows form."

            When a man named Ralph Sanchez built this 1.5-mile track, he put a lot of effort into making it pretty. The track surface has been radically altered twice since. Upon further review - and after millions spent, wasted and spent again - they actually got it right. Homestead is still 1.5 miles, and it's closest to the shape conjured up by the term "oval." Since Atlanta Motor Speedway has now been "Brutonized" (or "de-ovaled,," perhaps) for more than a decade, what would seem to be the most logical shape for a track this size is now unique.

            Out of habit, forms of motorsports, at least those involving laps, are segregated into oval tracks and road courses. Very few ovals are, uh, ovals. In order to be closer to the truth, it ought to be D-tracks and road courses.

            The infield has a pond where windsurfers used to cavort - or whatever it is that windsurfers do - during the races. Windsurfers aren't like football players. They can't scamper. Sure, they "sail" but that's too boring. Maybe they dash and dart. Maybe they rock and roll. Maybe they don't do anything, because for some reason, they aren't there anymore. The demise of speedway windsurfers: Yet another sign of hard economic times.

            Since, by the grace of network television, the Ford 400 wasn't allowed to start until about 4 p.m., Sunday offered copious opportunities to mingle and observe. The fans seemed about the same, though with better tans and more languages.

            All kinds of variety seemed to be on display at the lines of food stands out behind the main grandstand. I paused for a while in front of Maggie's Empanada Bistro, at first wondering what an empanada was and then noting that if the "bistro" were in a comic strip, it would be a lemonade stand. It's the same way that NASCAR tracks erect tents and call them "chalets." Wonder why no faith-healing evangelist ever thought of putting on "chalet revivals"? It may happen yet.

            Then I noticed a stand offering fried-bologna sandwiches, which made me think Homestead had at least one thing in common with Hickory Motor Speedway, and, at the same time, made me hungry. Lord, aren't we making progress when a fried-bologna sandwich without cheese, lettuce or tomato costs $5?

            I realized it was all a ruse, though, because there were logos and flags that said "Americrown," the subsidiary of International Speedway Corporation dedicated to selling horrendous, overpriced food of all kinds to the race fans of the land. The effect of an Americrown logo on this reporter is roughly the equivalent to the effect a GEICO logo has on the cavemen of television commercials.

            So I made an about-face and retreated to the press box, where the Americrown food was still awful but free of charge.

            You can reach Monte Dutton at mdutton@gastongazette.com.