Updated May 5, 2025 at 6:08 AM PDT
The race cars roll into downtown Camden, S.C., like an old-fashioned circus. Streets are blocked off for the welcome party, where a rock band serenades the crowd with a Jerry Reed country classic: "East Bound and Down."
The commotion on a recent weekend lures families out of restaurants. People whistle and cheer as motors rev and exhaust pipes pop. Kids run up and down the rows of parked cars.
Some of these race cars look like something a child might draw. A Honda Civic has a lawnmower, squirrels and flamingoes on its roof. A cream-colored Toyota Yaris has googly eyes, an homage to Garold Gareth "Gary" Wilson, Jr. — SpongeBob SquarePants' pet snail.
An old Volkswagen Beetle is painted black and yellow. Its team (and their children) showed up dressed as bees.
They're all here for the local installment of 24 Hours of Lemons, an endurance car race with a major twist: The cars can't cost more than $500. The series bills itself as "racing for real people." Team costumes are encouraged.
Judges sort out a motley field
In the middle of the party, race judges in black robes sort cars into competition classes. "A" is for strong and reliable cars. "C" is for ones that have more personality than power. "B" is for teams somewhere between.
One judge, Eric Rood, tells me it's a back-and-forth process with the teams — most of them want to be in as low a class as possible, for easier competition.
"It is a bit of a negotiation," Rood says. "And I'm not above reproach. This is a wagon full of bribery," he says, pointing to a cart trailing him.
The graft in question is mainly beer, novelty items and food. One team plies Rood with jalapeno hot dogs (yes, they brought a grill). When Rood gives the OK to a car, the word "Bribed" is stenciled onto its hood with spray paint.
Assessing a 1987 Camaro wearing Budweiser-esque "Baddriver" livery, Rood pushes down on a front fender.
"Nice and soft," he says as the car's frame keeps bouncing. "I like what I see there."
Safety is priceless, even for a Lemon
The 24 Hours of Lemons races started more than 15 years ago in California. There are now 23 races each year, from coast to coast. The contests offer modest prize money, which is often refused by teams who ask that the earnings instead go to charity.
It's a take on France's famous 24 Hours of Le Mans endurance race, and this weekend's contest in South Carolina is shorter, and spread over two days.
According to competition rules, the cars must cost less than $500 — not including safety equipment. Every car has a roll cage and fire suppression. And like big-time racing, drivers are protected by head and neck restraints.
If drivers spin out or drive too aggressively, they're given a talking-to and ordered into a penalty box for what's basically a timeout.
Vince Deno was driving his pink-wrapped Mazda Miata (name: Sparkle Rosa) when he went too fast during a yellow-flag caution. The judges ordered him to sit on the back of the car for a slow roll through the paddock area, using a megaphone to broadcast his apologies to all the teams.
Watching cars with more personality than power
On a sunny Saturday at Carolina Motorsports Park, cars tear around the track at high speeds. At first, it seems a bit surprising, given the amount of non-performance-enhancing gear bolted onto their bodies.
Matthew Ramirez stands at a fence with his young son, who's a big fan of Gary the snail. Ramirez lives in nearby Lancaster, S.C.; he came to see a friend race. The track is about an hour from the famous Darlington Raceway, a NASCAR stop. But, Ramirez says, he isn't into that kind of racing.
"I think this is pretty cool, though. I like this a lot," Ramirez says. "Especially the endurance aspect of just trying to race your garbage as long and fast as possible. I think it's awesome."
Jen Keenan, a racer from Arizona, usually competes in a Subaru Brat. But for this race, she's a judge for the first time. When I ask what she likes about the circuit, she says it's the camaraderie.
"I feel like racing in general would be something that's very intimidating for a woman and also just someone that's new," she says.
At a 24 Hours of Lemons race, she says, "Everyone's just so welcoming and they help each other out."
Race teams pull toward one shared goal: finishing
This racetrack is more than 2 miles long. Built over an old airport, it's a mix of straightaways and sharp turns where some drivers spin out.
But the biggest challenges are mechanical.
"I had apparently boiled the brake fluid," Shellie McKee tells me, describing how when she pulled off the track for a penalty lap, too much heat built up in the air-cooled braking system while her car sat still. The next time she tried to stop, the brake pedal fell to her car's floorboard.
She and her husband, Justin, came with a team from Charleston, S.C., to race in a 1978 Datsun B210. Early Saturday, it needed a new fuel pump. In the afternoon, it needed a new radiator and fan after rear-ending another car.
"Half our team is at the parts store right now getting everything that we need, and we're here bleeding brakes trying to save that," McKee says.
It's not easy keeping a Lemon car rolling. After the first day, some crews are up late, sharing tools and helping each other. One team had to walk the track to find their only set of brake pads — which had flown off along with their car's front wheel. Another group took on the challenge of replacing their engine for the first time, a job that went on for hours after midnight.
By Sunday afternoon, about 50 of more than 80 registered cars are still on the track, by Rood's count. And that's the goal for these teams: staying in the race long enough to see the checkered flag.
"We're not in contention for anything," McKee says when I check in with her team. "We're trying to fight to keep the car out there and keep it running, and that's about it."
Finally, after more than 13 hours of racing, the checkered flag waves. Spectators, teams and judges line up and applaud every car as it exits.
The McKees' Datsun didn't make it to the finish. But they did win a tongue-in-cheek award — for having the worst brakes. It's called "Can't Stop, Won't Stop."
In a race where the loudest cheers are for teams that defy the odds, that label seems to fit just right.
Copyright 2025 NPR
