I rolled out to the track with fellow evo contributor Karim Al-Azhari late Wednesday afternoon to meet the team, sign on and have our gear (race suit, fireproof underwear, gloves, boots and helmets) scrutinized. And get a first glimpse of our steed for the weekend's frivolities.

The journey towards the 2007 Dubai 24 hour race had begun back in September 2006. With the inaugural Middle East Carrera Cup getting canned by Porsche, Karim and I decided the 24hr event would fill the January gap in Al Nabooda Racing's 2006/07 event calendar. Running our own Porsche Carrera Cup in what would be our first 24hr race seemed a little over ambitious, so we took the decision to run as drivers with an experienced team. The research followed and we settled a deal with Ebbing Motorsport from Germany. Ebbing offered a good package with a new car and a history of success in 24hr events in Europe and experience running in last year's inaugural Dubai 24hr race.

Almost four months later, I was pleased just to be here. I had been in and out of bed with severe flu for the last two weeks. But I was fine; I wasn't going to miss the opportunity of my first 24 hour race for the world.

Standing in front of our steed for the 24hr she looked better in the flesh than the photographs of the car being loaded into the container a few weeks prior had suggested. The car was a Clio Cup, straight out of the box from Renault Sport in Germany. A brand new 2007 spec series 3 RS. Ebbing Motorsport had taken the time to prep the car for the 24hr before shipping it to Dubai; stickers, fog lights, LED lighting for the centre consul switches and reprogramming of the pit lane speed limiter for 'Code 60' speed control. All good. Not so good, the standard Cup series spec 54-litre fuel tank and 205bhp instead of the 240bhp chipped ECU. Some of the previous shape Clios in class A2 were apparently running larger tanks and lighter carbon panels. We had hoped the Ebbing team would have upped the spec of the car for the 24hr race so as to be able to compete within class. Not so. I pushed the disappointment back by reminding myself this was my first full 24 hour race.

All the same, the car looked the business in white and once we quickly adorned her with some evo Magazine and Al Nabooda racing livery she looked even more so. I jumped into the driver's seat just to make sure I could fit behind the wheel and scrapped off the surplus star to better imitate the New Zealand national flag next to my name. I felt quietly comfortable about the two days ahead.

Thursday dawned early. Ahead of us one daytime practice, one daytime qualifying session and one night practice session just after dark. All starting with a compulsory 8.30am drivers' briefing. Our first team briefing highlighted what was probably going to be the major challenge of the race weekend for me: communication. The driver line-up: Karim Al-Azhari from the UAE, Henk Albronda from Holland, Martin Bailey from Australia and yours truly living in Dubai, but originally from NZ. Easy. All four of the drivers speak English and Henk and Karim German. Now add to the mix, team principal Klaus and our trusty pit manager Bernard from Ebbing Motorsport in Germany whose English was limited. Martin and I with our antipodean accents were in for a challenging time. Five minutes of intense discussion between the German speakers in the team would be translated into a single sentence for the benefit of Martin and I. I have a funny feeling we probably missed something...

Time for my first session. Sitting behind the wheel of the Clio for the first time one could easily be excused for fantasising about British Touring Car glory. The driving position is very upright and, courtesy of my shorter co-drivers, the wheel is in very close into my chest. Couple that with a wrap-around consul, LCD race display, expansive roll cage and gear shifter where the window wiper control should be, the little Clio feels a whole lot more serious from the inside than first impressions from the outside might suggest.

First gear engages with a healthy clunk and with ample clutch slip to ensure I avoid the embarrassment of stalling the car. I am rolling down pit lane towards the fuelling bay for the first time. Gassed up and exiting pit lane, two Porsche Carrera Cup cars cut across the nose of the Clio into turn one, belching flames on down shift; a gentle reminder this weekend is serious stuff. Eighty-one entrants from all over the world, somewhere in excess of $ 10 million worth of race cars and some extremely experienced and highly regarded drivers amongst the 320 odd pilots getting ready to do battle over 24hrs. Anxious? Maybe I should be, but no. It has been far too long since I felt the cut and thrust of competitive motorsport from behind the wheel.

Klaus's stern words echo in my mind. 'Take it easy. Build up slowly. Get a feel for the car before you start to push'. I keep repeating this in my head. Fortunately, I know the Dubai Autodrome GP circuit well: Porsche Club Track Days, instructing at the race school and managing the Al Nabooda Racing Team have equipped me with a pretty good knowledge of all 16 turns of this marvellous, undulating 5.4km race circuit.

Learning to drive the Clio comes together very quickly. The Sadev six-speed sequential gearbox is a real honey. Flat clutch and less up shifts courtesy of the engine cut-out are a delight. As with all sequential 'boxes there is some counting required to keep track of gears on the clutched down shifts, but my first experience is nothing but positive. The rpm LED lights for judging the shift point can't be seen in daylight, but the rpm display on the LCD screen is clear. The only real concern for me is the switches on the centre consul; they are all up for 'on'. Must be something about heralding from the southern hemisphere, I just feel it should be the other way round...

Back in the pits and Karim was sharing my concern for the inability to feel the limit of grip in the Clio. Martin and Henk, both much more experienced in light, stiffly sprung front drive race cars, didn't share our concern and were more occupied trying to decide the optimum gear for each corner. A drivers' huddle served to swap opinions, observations and advice and we were ready for qualifying. Each of us had to complete at least two timed laps to be permitted to drive in the race and hopefully in the process set a reasonable qualifying time for the team that would see us start not too far down the grid. Running in A2 - A6 being the top class - anything in the top 50 will be a sterling effort.

Another stern word from Klaus to 'take it easy' and we each take our turn at qualifying. Climbing back into the Clio didn't feel so foreign, the environment now less strange more comfortable and familiar second time round. A few laps into qualifying and I experience a small lock up under brakes into the hairpin (turn 10) and then two laps later a call for oversteer as I hunted down the late apex of the bowl (turn 14). I was starting to feel the limit of the car. Phew. Still far from finding the limit of driver and machine, I was at least connecting with the car.

Qualifying over. The car is still in one piece and we are in 45th on the grid and fifth in our class with a best lap of 2.27.57secs courtesy of Karim with yours truly setting second fastest time. Local knowledge must be paying off. But neither Karim nor I have experienced night racing, we won't have to wait long to see what all the fuss is about.

As darkness descends and the night practice gets underway something becomes abundantly clear. In the mind of 24hr racers lumens come only second to horsepower in measuring yourself against the opposition. I don't think I have ever seen so much high beam xenon. Literally blinding. I head for my kit bag and fix my yellow tint visor in anticipation.

Twenty minutes later and I'm up. Quick radio check before I leave the pits indicates my previous communication dramas appear to be solved. The Clio is now feeling familiar, but the high-beam xenons of the other cars are not. This night thing on an unlit circuit is a very different experience. Judging the speed of faster cars approaching from behind is difficult and sighting the apex on turns seven, nine, 12 and 14 impossible as they are simply out there somewhere in the darkness. Recall of well-practiced turn-in points help. Circuit knowledge aids immensely here and I start to adjust quickly. A couple of seconds a lap down on daylight qualifying times, but by the end of the session I feel confident to race at night.

Its 8pm. Klaus calls another drivers' huddle. He makes the observation that Karim is one of very few drivers going faster at night (2.26.186secs). We agree to maximise Karim's stints in the 13 hours of night running. Otherwise, the strategy is a simple rotation to share time in the car evenly. After a quick trip to the buffet in the catering tent, Karim, Martin and I head back to the Clio to see if Klaus has managed to access the data log. Password problems stop us in our tracks. The joys of a new car. The chance for me to learn from where Karim is gaining time on me is lost. Frustrated, it is time to head home.

7am. I am sitting bolt upright in bed. Race day. I harness this burst of enthusiasm and jump out from behind my warm duvet and quickly fry up some hash browns and two eggs. The breakfast of champions¡­ Maybe at Le Mans in the 1970s.

10.30am. An awkward moment as we four pilots sit with Klaus for the final pre-race briefing and he makes the call for Henk to start the race even though he was lapping slower than the rest of us yesterday. It seems Klaus is yet to build trust in Karim, Martin and I. No stress. The 2pm race start and Henk's subsequent decision to save the car and not utilise the warm-up session leads to a pretty chilled morning. By the time we suit up and join the rest of the cars and drivers on the start grid I am feeling relaxed. Seventy-six entrants have made it onto the grid for the start. It is solid. Bedlam. The atmosphere is fantastic.

Time to rock and roll. A good luck handshake and I leave Henk to the solitude of the Clio's cockpit, escape the hustle and bustle of the starting grid and make my way to turn 14 to watch the start. The get-off is surreal with the snake of cars behind the safety vehicle so long that as the lead cars cross the line for the rolling start, the tail of the field is only just clearing turn one. Needless to say, the front-runners are lapping the slower cars well before they get across the start line for their official race start.

Henk is true to Klaus's confidence. He drops a few places in the opening laps, but most importantly stays well out of trouble as the red mist clears from a few over zealous drivers and the field settles into the race.

Fuel is going to be our challenge and based on consumption calculations on Thursday, we expect to be stopping approximately every 1hr 20 minutes. Not ideal, but with a two-hour maximum stint length for a driver, we will need to change drivers each time we refuel. So with only one hour gone in the race, it comes as a shock to Martin and I to look up from the comfort of our fold-out chairs to see Bernard standing in front of us flapping his arms for Martin to getting ready as Henk is coming in.

One clean driver's change later and Martin is in the hot seat as I touch base with Henk in an attempt to find out the reason for his early return to pit lane. 'Dehydrated, car OK.' Phew. Let's hope Martin could extract the 1hr 20 minutes before he had to pit or we are in trouble.

Forty-five minutes into Martin's stint and I take the decision that to play it safe I will don earpieces, balaclava, helmet and gloves at the one hour mark. I hate to rush. I relax back into my seat, close my eyes and start to run a lap around the track in my head 'Schnell!' 'What?' Bernard is tapping me on the shoulder and screaming something in German. I look up and there is Clio #66 sitting there in pit lane. I can see from the race control TV screen they have just thrown Code 60. Martin must have seized the opportunity to swing straight into the pits rather than complete a full lap at 60kmh. No time for the earpieces, I throw on balaclava and helmet as I hotfoot it towards the Clio's open door. Fifteen seconds later I am installed. Lap belts loose by nature of having the smallest waist of the driver line-up. Not confidence inspiring, but I am rolling. Careful not to exceed 40kmh in pit lane, I turn into the fuelling area. A chance to tighten my shoulder straps, adjust the mirror and the central air vent. I see the fuel cap go on in the rear view mirror so fire the Clio back into life and head for the pit exit.

The purple Code 60 flags are still out so I engage third gear and flick the pit lane speed limiter that has been programmed to cut the ignition at 60kmh. Code 60 is a tricky system devised by the organisers in place of using a safety car. If I pass another car or exceed a 5.23sec lap we will incur time penalties so I am careful.
Suddenly, the purple flag on the marshal's post entering turn 10 drops and is replaced by green. All hell breaks loose. A Porsche 997 Cup car blows buy and I am suddenly about to simultaneously share the hairpin with a snoozing 3 Series BMW in front, a Seat and two other Clios who are trying to climb down the inside of me under brakes. With a balance of confident aggression and cautious optimism, I thread my way through turns 10 and then 11. Entering turn 12, the two bright orange Clios of the Equipe Verschuur team from Holland are through and I am on the outside of the Seat having dispatched BMW's sleeping beauty.

The Clios suddenly lift and I swerve to the left to avoid a collision. Having passed the two Clios I am side by side with the Seat entering turn 14. Another Code 60 flag. Damn. How long has that been out? My opponent in the Seat and I lift off in unison. Both feeling guilty for not spotting the flag a turn earlier, we gesture each other forward. He takes the spot. I start praying I don't get pinged for the pass on the Clios under Code 60.

Rounding turn four, I see what looks like the yellow Red Camel Seat heavily in the wall on the outside of turn five. The officials are trying to clear the car from what is a dangerous position. Nasty. My radio is down as I didn't have time to install my earpieces and with no signals other than a thumbs up from pit wall, I circulate.

The little Clio settles into her work nicely. Threading our way through the traffic and getting safely clear of much faster machinery is proving quite comfortable. I haven't lost it. Before long I am on the back of a red and white E36 BMW #56. A class A4 car, but holding me up all the same. I look for a safe way past. Not easy as the driver of the BMW battles with a car that is oversteering badly on some turns. I remind myself to stay patient and a lap later squeeze safely by down the inside into turn seven only to be re-passed down the back straight by the more powerful car. Several more frustrating laps stuck behind the #56 through the twisty stuff and I nip down the inside of turn nine only to be passed straight away again. I remind myself of the endurance nature of our quest, settle in behind him and try and ignore the two seconds a lap I am loosing while I hope for my obstruction to pit soon. He doesn't. As the sun starts to go down over the Autodrome, I flick on my xenons in the hope the little Clio might be able to scare this moving chicane aside with lumens where it had fallen short with horsepower. It works as the BMW pits two laps later.

Free at last. I take a breather, adjust my eyes to the darkness and put my head down to try and build my rhythm back into the 2.27.28secs range. As I pick the pace up, the Clio starts to lose front end grip, understeering badly through both left turns. Feels like the tyres are gone. A few corners later the LCD flashes 4.3 litres. I am almost out of gas. Radio communication down, I try to signal the pits. I get the pit board next time past so head for pit lane as the LCD display tells me only 2.2 litres is left in the tank.

I am out and Karim is in. I settle into the chair in the pits, quickly removing my helmet to get a drink. My wife Megan informs me I was out for a whole 1hr and 50 minutes. Time flies¡­ The two Code 60s had obviously helped fuel consumption no end. Bernard seemed happy. Our strategy was back on track.

The clock is nearing 7pm, so I head for the catering tent for dinner as my wife wishes me luck and heads for home. Hopefully a stomach full of food will assist me to sleep so early. Behind our pit garage we have a 40-foot shipping container complete with mattresses and bunk beds. I leave a wake up request with the team and head inside for some rest. I will drive twice again before day break so if I don't get some sleep now I will be trying to push on all night without any. Dangerous. My earplugs in, the noise of the lapping cars fades. The dance party in the tent above pit lane has fired into life and the dull base shakes the container and worse still drones its way in through my earplugs. Whose brilliant idea was a dance party at a 24hr race. I lie there awake forever. I was contemplating finding their power source and pulling the plug when I must have dropped off to sleep.

Next thing I am being shaken awake. Midnight apparently. Martin is in and I'm up next in about an hour or so. I drag down my almost dry fireproof underwear and suit up. Chilly. It's not often you feel cold in Dubai. Back in the pit garage, Karim fills me in on the events of the last five hours or so. He has managed three sessions since subbing for me just after dark. Sounds like the strategy of maximising Karim's seat time during the night sessions has worked. We have climbed up to 29th overall and fifth in class. Awesome. Even better news, the Clio is still running strong and without a scratch.

I sink into my pre-stint routine and before I know it, the call comes to get ready. A couple of minutes later, Martin is in the pits and I am back behind the wheel and heading for the refuelling bay again. Back out on track, the Clio's xenon headlights cut a nice forward view, the apexes are still out of the lit area in no man's land, but I am now more confident to back my turn-in to pick them out of the darkness and I find myself hunting them down consistently and accurately. My yellow visor is keeping the bright lights of faster cars approaching from behind under control. On the occasional clear lap I see a 2.27sec lap flash up on the LCD. Just as I start to feel I am finding both rhythm and pace, the purple flags are out and I am under Code 60 again. I engage third and flick the pit lane speed limiter switch. Having no clue how long I have been out, I radio the pits for a decision with a fuel load update and request for advice on pitting. Silence. I repeat my message in a slow calm voice. Silence. I rephrase. Silence again. Just as I assume the radio is down, a sudden blast of the indecipherable attempts to shatter my inner ear. Please repeat. Again an inaudible dose of feedback comes back at me. I revert to assuming the thumbs up from Bernard on pit wall, coupled with the absence of a pit-board message is my signal to stay out. Soon the 997 Carrera Cup stranded on the infield of turn 14 minus its left rear wheel is cleared and we are back racing under green flags.

Climbing back into a rhythm, I feel my pace quickening. The Clio is revving more freely now and with tyres that still have some rubber left on them, I see a 2.26sec lap flash up before the fuel warning light sends me towards the pit lane.

I am in and Henk is out. Martin is back in the pits after a rest and informs me I was out for 1hr and 51 minutes. We have clawed our way up another six places and now over the half way point lie in 23rd overall and fourth in class.

I will be back out soon so no chance to sleep properly. However, I am starting to feel tired and decide to put my head down in the container for a snooze. My 40 winks are short lived as Bernard calls me back to the pit bay as Henk short stints at 29 minutes and Martin is back in the seat prematurely. That means I am on stand-by. I drove the car into darkness and a quick calculation reveals I am likely to nurse the Clio back into the light of a new day. Martin manages 1hr 25 minutes before Bernard signals he is coming in. A great session for us as Clio #63 hits problems and we find ourselves in 20th overall and now third in class.

Bernard advises we'll do brakes and tyres at the end of my stint. I nod irrelevantly as I climb back into my office. The pace seems a little less frenetic this time out. Maybe it's the fact we have lost some cars from the race? Maybe, or more likely I am just getting used to it. The laps real off ¡­ Soon the sun is coming up and light starts flooding back across the track. The apexes slowly start to reappear and a strange feeling comes across me. Some stern words to myself are required under my helmet to retain concentration. Weird feeling, but it passes.

I had managed another 1hr 45 minutes behind the wheel and we are another two places up the ladder ¨C 18th overall and second in class. We have leap-frogged the Equipe Verschuur team from Holland in Clio #64 but still trail well behind the S2000 Honda #61 of Maeder Motorsport from Germany, which is looking far too fast and strong almost 11 laps out in front. Feeling pleased with the contribution of my three lengthy sessions during the hours of darkness, I head to the catering tent for a cooked breakfast.

Back at the pits, I meet up with Martin and Henk. All the driving crew are in attendance for the first time in the last 10 hours. The return of the sun seems to have provided us all a second wind. With only seven hours to run until the 2pm finish we go about analysing our position and considering strategy through to race end. Only a mechanical failure in the A2 class-leading Honda would gift us a win. A class podium and top 20 finish overall would be an unreal result.

Our challenge will be to hold off Clio #64 currently running in third. The team is vastly experienced with six championships to their name in 2006 including Clio and Megane Cup championship victories in Holland. They are only four laps behind and with the lighter Clio and larger fuel capacity seem likely to hunt us down now that it is daylight and our circuit knowledge advantage has gone with the darkness. Karim is circulating quickly and at the end of his session we still hold position. Henk is out followed next by Martin. Watching the laps tick by takes an age.

As predicted Clio #64 is closing the gap and as the temperature climbs Martin is only able to get 1hr 20 minutes from a full tank. I wait patiently for my final stint. There is some consternation with Bernard over tyres. I ignore it to focus on my final stint behind the wheel. We are in 19th and car #64 is within two laps of us now.

I swap with Martin; more speed in the driver change this time. I perform a radio check from the refuelling bay. Nothing. Again. I clear the fuelling bay, exit on to the track and put my head down. The car is on fresh front tyres and is slippery for the first few corners; I proceed with caution. First time past the pits and Karim is on pit wall signalling me to push. Time to break into a 2.25sec lap. I repeat the ¡®no unnecessary risks' message a couple of times as I grit my teeth and get on with it. Passing the transponder on the pit wall for the second time I look for my lap time on the LCD. Nothing. Next lap. Nothing again. Bernard is now signalling me to push. I am blind to my pace, but it is obviously not fast enough. I am struggling with understeer. The car feels different, less front grip. Or am I just pushing harder? I notice the speed registers 202kmh just before going for the brakes at the end of the back straight; that's much faster than earlier in the race. But the signals from the pit wall to push keep coming all session. I am obviously not fast enough. Next lap the pit board confirms for me to come in. Just as well because I am down to 1.7 litres and am coming in regardless.

I am soaked through and my mouth is bone dry. Without any Code 60s and warmer air, I managed only 1hr 20 minutes from the tank of gas. Karim has almost 1hr 30 minutes to run to make the finish. Doesn't look good. Car #64 is right on us and we will only know if we still hold second in class once they finish their pit stop. Delays in their pit and refuelling stop (we found out later caused by a flat battery) swing into our favour and suddenly second is again comfortable. We now just need to try to get home on fuel.

I enquire as to my lap times in my last session. Apparently a 2.27 the best I managed. Bernard asks how the Yokohamas felt. What Yokohamas? Turns out Dunlop ran out of slicks ...

Karim manages to get down to a 2.26sec lap. With the gap secure, Karim backs off to add the team's slowest race lap to his fastest. He eventually drops to a 2.54sec lap as he trundles around the final laps in top gear trying to stretch the Clio's fuel to the finish.

1hr 25 minutes into his session our mighty little Clio must be running on fumes. The final lap flag has to come out this lap. It just has to. I join Martin and the team on the top of the wire catch fencing above our pit box to wish the flag out and Karim home. The rolled flag is shown to the race-leading Red Bull Z4 Coupe of Team Duller Motorsport. One lap to go. The field slows and starts to form up into groups as per 24hr tradition. Karim and the Clio join in. We wait patiently. After what seems like an eternity Clio #66 with Karim at the wheel rounds turn 16 and takes the chequered flag. The emotions swell up. We made it. We finished. We achieved a top 20 and second in class. Awesome.

We rush down to parc ferme to greet Karim and our trusty steed. 1.1 litres. Only 1.1 litres of gas left. Karim is yelling as he struggles to free himself of the Hans neck support.

It has been a while, and standing on the podium again is sweet. Very sweet. A 24hr race certainly is an extremely satisfying experience. The huge effort required of a whole team makes it that much more fulfilling than sprint racing. I count this experience amongst the most enjoyable of my life. And can't wait until my next all nighter.