I don't remember the year, but I remember the rain — driving.

The normally dusty infield at Riverside International Raceway had been transformed into a mud bog in a matter of moments and the legendary Shav Glick of the Los Angeles Times and I were caught in the downpour.

As we were slogging through the slick terrain, the door on a motor home swung open and a tall man said: "You guys look like you can use a roof and a cup of coffee."

The man was actor James Garner, and although I had sat alongside him several times on the pit wall at the Long Beach Grand Prix, it was Glick — as always — who drew Garner's attention. Glick and Garner were acquaintances through golf as well as racing.

As Glick and I scrambled up the steps, another race fan tossed us towels.

That man was Paul Newman.

And as Shav and I dried off, Newman set down a plate of veggies and dip, looked out the window and said: "Make yourselves comfortable because I don't think this is going to clear up any time soon."

Newman then sat down in a chair, turned to us and said, "One rule, no movie talk."

For several hours, the four of us talked about a variety of subjects, mostly racing — and no movies.

Fearful of wearing out our welcome, Shav and I once tried to excuse ourselves. "Sit down," said Newman, firmly. "Walk out that door and you're going to drown. We're all stuck here. For all I know, this could be the end of the world."

In more than four decades on this job, that was the best afternoon. Four guys sitting around a table talking about racing and life experiences.

While movie talk was off limits, little else was. What surprised me was the interest Newman and Garner had in what Shav and I did — particularly the variety of sports that we covered and the people we had met along the way.

Many movie buffs know Newman, who died Sept. 26 of lung cancer at 83, was part owner of the Newman-Haas IndyCar team. What many people don't realize is that he was a natural driver. He competed into his 70s in sports cars.

Had not it been for other interests, I believe Newman could have been a professional driver. The likes of Mario Andretti share that opinion.

Newman and Garner were aficionados of the racing game. Newman knew drivers and tracks. He knew races. If I remember correctly, he had a particular affinity for endurance sports car races such as the 24 Hours of Le Mans and Daytona.

We talked about drivers. We discussed in length the age-old debate as to whether drivers are athletes. Newman didn't view himself as being an athlete, but he knew he could drive.

At one point, we all jotted down our five favorite drivers. Newman's list was different and he couldn't wait to defend his selections, which he did with vigor.

"What do you guys know?" he said. Then he asked everyone to rank their Nos. 6-10. When some of his picks were still off the other three lists, he let out a very audible "Ahh, jeez" that had the small room in stitches.

As we talked around that table, Paul Newman fixed sandwiches.

He was as interested in hearing our favorite racing stories as sharing his own. After about an hour, I stopped shaking. Garner could see I was uncomfortable.

"We're just four guys bench racing," he laughed. "Three of whom know nothing about great drivers," Newman added.

What I'll remember most about Paul Newman is not the fact that he was a great actor. I'll remember that afternoon in a motor home — the fact that he was a good guy.

I bumped into James Garner several times after that. But I never saw Paul Newman again. Didn't really need to. I had the only memory I ever needed to have.

Bill Center covers motor sports for The San Diego Union-Tribune. Contact him at bill.center@uniontrib.com.

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