The statement of “nothing ever stays the same” is particularly true in this case. I have lived in Indianapolis most of my adult life. I have been to the 500 race 15 times. It is truly an experience that everyone should have at least once in his or her life. This is a personal account of what I remember as some of the greatest times in my life. I hope you enjoy the story.
When I first went to the 500 I was 14 years old. The year was 1982 and up to that point in time the largest crowd I had ever been in was at Kings Island. I remember my father hurrying everyone to get ready. We needed to be on our way before 5:30 AM ! ! I couldn’t believe we had to get ready so EARLY in the morning. What could possibly happen at this hour of the morning? We all piled into the family vehicle and started our 45-minute journey to the track, or least I remembered the track not being all that far away. About 20 minutes into the trip it happened, we came to a complete stop and father turned off the car. After having some breakfast on the hood of the car and having to go to the bathroom for 2 hours we got close enough to the track that I could see the steely structure shining like a beacon of entertainment just over the horizon. I quickly located the luxurious green restrooms that were stacked besides one another like horse racing gates and held my breath as I relieved myself of 4 glasses of OJ. I remember thinking to myself that an outbreak of spring flu must be going around based on all of the vomit I had to avoid.
As I opened the door to return to hustle and bustle poof it was 4 years later, it was the night before the race and I was now 18. I had heard stories over the years of how the drunken debauchery and depravity was rampant the night before and boy were they right. We had lined up to get into the track about 10:00 PM and we were still 4 blocks away from the entrance. On my way back to the car I noticed several people had setup a living room on the side of the road. It was complete with a couch, TV, Lazy-boy, refrigerator and lamp. They even had an entertainment area with a pool table. It was the craziest thing I had ever seen. People were offering me beer and booze at every car on the way back. I remember it taking me about an hour to walk 1000 feet back to my friends. There were the usual bar-fights breaking out from time to time, but for the most part most people were some of the friendliest I had ever met. Tailgating, car doors and trunks were open, dancing, laughing; drinking it was a teenage utopia. After several hours of less than legal consumptions we found a comfy spot on the hood of the car and passed out for a few hours. This year we were going to park in the infamous “Snake Pit” in turn 4. I needed a few cups of the hair of the dog to relieve the horrible headache I woke up with, but we made it to our spot in only a few short hours. We parked the car in least muddy spot we could find and preceded to get the party zone in order. Next to us was a huge RV and several cute girls were dancing on top of the vehicle. I was standing there watching the erotic gyrations hoping to be invited over later when out of nowhere I heard “hey show us your tits.” All at once they lifted up their shirts revealing a parade of young breasts that I would not soon forget.
After I regained my senses it was now 4 years later again and I was eating brunch at an expensive hotel on the north side of town. No longer were we required to sit and wait with the rest of the peonage, now we had a police escort into the track and suite passes for turn 2. We loaded up the van and followed the police on motorcycles into our private parking lot. On the way to the track the captain of the motorcycle squad would stand on his seat with his arms stretched out riding bike like a skateboard. I guess he wanted to make sure that we were entertained was we made our way to the speedway area. After entering the restricted lot were approached by security guards asking for our credentials. I flashed mine as if I were some famous movie star and proceeded to make myself a bloody-mary. After a few short hours it was time to head to the suite and gorge ourselves on the tasty delights. Laughing pushing falling around we made our way to the gate. As I was walking backwards I remember feeling a sharp pain in my leg, followed by a pressure that pushed me to the ground. I thought to myself, “crap I think I just got hit by a golf cart.” I looked up to verbally assault this asshole for hitting me when I noticed, “hey your Paul Newman.” “You ok kid,” he asked. “Ummmm sure Mr. Newman I think I will live.” “Good next time maybe you should watch where you are going.” I thought that’s a typical old man thing to say, but good advice all the same. After a quick visit to the suite we took our 7 coolers and made our way to our turn 2 seats. Some of you may ask, but why not stay in the suite? Well to be honest to get the full experience of going to the 500 you need to be in the stands.
As we walked to our seats people were shuffling along in their favorite racers clothing, recounting the last years exciting action. We approach the gate, show our tickets and walk up the stairs. Now this next part is difficult to explain so I will use a movie analogy. The only thing I have seen that even compares to the feeling is from the movie Gladiator. They walk out of a dark tunnel and stand in awe looking at the huge arena filled with thousands of people cheering for the festivity that is about to begin. We make it to our seats and greet all of our friends. You see tickets for the race are difficult to come by and most people purchase season seating. After a few drinks, a few parade laps and few more stories of the year gone by it’s finally time to get racing. The fanfare and pageantry is almost overwhelming. You are a buzz and then the most famous words in racing come billowing out of the speakers. “Gentleman and Ladies (recent addition for Danica and Sarah) Start Your Engines.” The crowd erupts with noise as the cars take a few parade laps and then, all of a sudden, they come screaming around the first turn. It takes only 6 seconds for 33 cars to get through turns 1 and 2 and it is the one of the thing that I always will remember seeing for the rest of my life.
Regardless if you like racing or not, going to the Indianapolis 500 is more than just a race. It’s the greatest spectacle in racing.
