CONCORD, N.C. — This month marks the 51st time I have entered the fifth month of the year with a tingle of anticipation for the signature event that is the Indianapolis 500.
I grew up a hop, skip and a jump down I-69 from the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, and my parents grew up (in one case) or moved to (in the other) within sight of 16th Street and Georgetown Road. The 500 was, as much as a birthday or Christmas, the seminal event of a given year.
In short, I am a son of the speedway, and damn proud of it.
I’ve written many times of the magic that May brings and I will until the day I can no longer write. It’s been too much of my history and my lineage to think about stopping.
Through the years I’ve lamented the fact that like all things, the Indy 500 has changed throughout this half-century-plus-one, and it was troubling to say the least.
But now, with the resurgence of an event that has always been front and center of my existence, those troubles are fading.
Sure, it’s not what it once was. What thing ever is? My first foray to the speedway in 1970 was one of those moments I remember, though not with the crystal clarity of years past. Again, clarity fades as one gets older, but the excitement does not.
Even a 10-hour drive from hallowed ground does not prevent me from feeling that pull toward IMS, just as if I still lived in Muncie and counted down the days to the annual running. That tingle of excitement, the twinge of anticipation for the familiar and scintillating, still awakens at this time every year.
I am sure others get the same feelings over events in their lives that I do about the 500, whether it’s motorsports-related or not, and that is right and proper. This is my World Cup, my Final Four, my World Series and Super Bowl, all wrapped into one glorious month.
Since Roger Penske took over the track and the 500, I’ve had a resurgence of my own. That is not to cast aspersions on the Hulman-George family in any way. “The Captain” is just that much better at the juggernaut, at big events and big thinking. He’s as much of a fan of the event as I am, probably more of one, and that deserves respect.
There was a time I could nearly recite the winners of the race, the pole winners and the big event of every Indy 500 I’ve ever attended. I have to look some things up now (thank you, internet), but I still remember the vast majority of them.
As I get older, I remember the little things. Like arriving at IMS while it was still dark on the first day of qualifications, standing on the Tower Terrace with my brother and father and waiting for the bomb to go off and the flood of cars through the tunnel off 16th Street.
I remember the days spent roaming the giant facility while dad worked, sitting along the wall in turn one and watching the cars come at us at impossible speeds. In hindsight, that probably wasn’t the smartest thing for a couple of soon-to-be-teenage kids to be doing, but it was a hell of a thrill, I’ll tell you that.
Tom Carnegie’s voice — and the other pros of the IMS PA team — is the soundtrack of my youth, and the roar of the crowd at Tom Sneva’s first 200 mph lap still rings in my ears.
The 1982 battle between Gordon Johncock and Rick Mears still brings chills and watching all four of Rick Mears’ 500 victories in person is something I’m quite proud to have done.
It’s here again, y’all, and despite being far away from My Indiana Home, I still feel the surge of the month of May in my veins. My heart is again at 16th and Georgetown and I imagine it always will be.