What a trip! Those who've been to the 500 before (and I'm sure some of you have been more years than I might end up living) will have heard all of this before, but I'm going to share anyway because this is a forum and it's what we do, right?
It was quite the road trip to get there—after six hours of driving my wife and I united with my parents and we went the remaining 9 hours together. Of course, no roadtrip is complete without
some beaver, which sustained us on our journey to a Sleep Inn on the seedy side of the Shadeland Township. Dinner was at
an American staple.
It was in the low 40s Fahrenheit on Carb Day (close to 4 °C aka refrigerator temp) morning.
We arrived early and thankfully it was
warm and sunny by the time things were underway. On the recommendation of several who have frequented the race as well as the commentary team at NBC, we were camped out at Turn 1 for the entirety of final practice. It was
difficult to get good pictures through the fence but not at all difficult to be blown away by the insane speeds of these cars. Seriously, if you're in the "oval racing is boring and takes no skill" camp, go watch an IndyCar race (preferably this one) in person. Your mind will be changed. Townsend Bell was right when he said during qualifying that the first time he watched the drivers do qualifying runs from outside the car, it suddenly didn't seem like such a sane idea!
After practice, we went to eat. I am not enough of a Marcus Ericsson fan to get the
"Marcus Ericsson Championship Fries" but I'm sure there were several who did and maybe some who became new fans (in case you're wondering, I definitely would've preferred the Ericsson fries to the Ed Carpenter fries). During lunch we discovered that the
midwestern obsession with cheese is not a myth and afterwards took a tour through some of the merchandise shops, where we found a signed Grosjean diecast inconspicuously sitting on the shelves. I forgot to take a picture because I was distracted by my dad wearing one of the silly giant IMS hats. Oh well. Once I finally found a Scott Dixon hat we wandered over to
the only part of the midway worth visiting (yes I would say that)
and then suddenly IMSA.
Now some of you may be aware that Indy holds a concert on Carb Day. I had no intention of going until I learned who the headline act was. As with any concert, waiting in line required sitting in a cloud of weed smoke visible from space, but I'm fairly certain I wasn't hallucinating when I saw
Indiana police officers on ponies. Speaking of ponies, the opening act was a band called
Soul Asylum, who, as far as I could tell, played about 12 variations of the same song for what felt like 400 years. I guess you'd appreciate them you were into pseudo-intellectual, cringingly angsty, ball-less 90's coffee shop grunge, but at some point midway through the fourth song (I'm making this up I have no idea how many songs they played) I was willing to trade places with Kyle Kirkwood circa 3:30 PM on Sunday afternoon, even though we were getting to watch on the front row. Thankfully, once Soul Asylum vacated the stage and
Doug E. Ballz himself appeared (thanks DWR), we knew things were going to get better. The difference between Soul Asylum and our headline act?
Every single person in the crowd knew all the words to every song he played.
It was pretty much magical and unless I get to see David Gilmour may end up being the best concert I ever attend.
We took a break on Saturday and went sightseeing. My wife loves nature and hiking so we went to a fabulously secluded area called Eagle Creek Park. If you prefer the Walden-like tranquility of wildlife to the bustling industrial cityscape that is many a midwestern urban center,
you won't be disappointed. We had planned on eating at Tegry Bistro, a spot we'd heard many amazing things about, but ultimately ate a nearby, perfectly lovely Asian restaurant named Kasai. Unfortunately I was a bit photography'd out from taking so many nature photos at this point, but I ate a plate of sesame chicken the size of my face for $10. Hard to beat that. On our way out we passed
a record store with a familiar design and stocked on provisions at Walmart, where I was delighted to see that
local merchandise support for the race is as strong as local support for college sports teams in Anytown USA.
I don't have many pictures from race day. Mostly because I was enjoying the race. On the way in I did have a laugh at the locals gouging race-goers for last-minute parking, or the locals who apparently were able to justify
investing in branded vending machines for this one day of the year. As I'd mentioned in the build-up to the race, our seats were just across from the last row, and before they gridded we got to see
the world's largest drum as well as
the fabled Borg Warner trophy pass us by. The weather on race day was just about as perfect as you could've wanted it to be, and the pre-race ceremonies were spellbinding and emotional. I can't even describe what it was like—you just have to be there to get the atmosphere, the significance of it all, the importance this race and those moments have to so many who've been going for so long.
The race itself went by faster than I'd imagined it would. While I'd been to the Speedway for F1 before, and a NASCAR oval race at Daytona, and was familiar with the sound of the cars echoing throughout the track, I was stunned at how quiet the Indy cars were in comparison. When they were surging down the back stretch, there was relative calm. The most wonderful part of it all to me was how great the crowd was—they knew the significance of everything that happened and cheered for almost every driver. Maybe you could say this of a lot of places—I've been to F1, IndyCar, IMSA, NASCAR, and SCCA races at eleven (?) different tracks—but I truly feel that Indianapolis has the best fans of any sporting event anywhere in the world. The roar that Newgarden received upon crossing the line was almost mythical.
Knowing we weren't getting anywhere quickly, we stuck around for the full post-race celebration. We had
a pretty good view of Victory Circle, and thankfully
our view of the parade lap was unobstructed by "Spider Mans" (thanks Josef). The parking area had transformed into a giant tailgate by race's end and it took us until 7:15 PM to get out of our lot. No worries, though, as we ran into some old IMSA friends while we waited.
What an unbelievable experience. Al Jr. was right: "You just don't know what Indy means."
We're already planning on going again next year.