I did not grow up with the Indianapolis 500.
Like the prisoners of Plato’s cave, unaware of their own ignorance, I once believed, like many of the uninitiated, that oval racing was just a series of left turns that goes on for several hours. Does it really matter, I would say, that the cars are driving really fast? After all, I know just where they’re going.
But I’m older now. My chains have been broken, and I have emerged from the cave. I have seen the best left turns on God’s green earth. And like Plato’s heralded philosopher, it is now time for me to return to the cave to share what I have seen with those still living in the shadows.
This all may seem a bit dramatic to a reader who has never experienced the Greatest Spectacle in Racing, but there is something truly special about this race. I didn’t understand this until college, when I met my girlfriend, Ellie, who at the time was serving as a 500 Festival Princess.
Ellie has wonderful parents who passed down the love of autoracing to her and her siblings, and like many men who become interested in things in pursuit of a woman, I dove deep into the world of high speed left turns.
Suddenly, it really did matter that these cars were driving really fast — so fast, in fact, that drivers at top speed experience such extreme G-forces that it’s as if 50 pounds of weight are added to their heads.
On top of that, drivers have reported losing up to 10 pounds during the race due to sweat loss, probably owing to the combination of a lack of power steering in the vehicles — demanding incredible hand and arm strength — as well as the fact that it’s about 140 degrees inside the cockpit.
Those are some pretty extreme left turns!
Then, of course, there is the sound of 33 cars zooming past at more than 200 miles per hour, a sound that can only truly be appreciated in person, a sound so unlike your own car, when it makes that left turn into the Culver’s parking lot on its way to the drive-thru.
Believe me, I know the thrill of a Wisconsin cheese curd, but it does not compare to the sound an IndyCar makes when it chases the wind.
This is the kind of speed most of us will only be lucky enough to watch. The best cars most of us have are more than a hundred years behind modern IndyCars. When Ray Harroun won the first Indianapolis 500 in 1911, his average speed throughout the race was 74.6 miles per hour, just a little slower than my average pace on the drive up to work this morning on I-69.
It’s little nuggets like that which make the 500 all the more fascinating. The race is steeped in history and tradition. To go out to the Speedway on Memorial Day Weekend is to understand that winners drink milk, the bricks must be kissed, and if you don’t tear up during “Back Home Again in Indiana,” you might not be human at all.
I have gone to the 500 three years in a row now, and each time, I appreciate it more and more. My girlfriend’s family has many race rituals, and I have been lucky enough to be invited into most of them.
Before the race, there is the annual prediction of who will win, which involves everyone writing their guess down on paper the night before, and only revealing their answer when everyone has returned home. I have been involved in the predictions for two years now, and I have correctly guessed the winner two years in a row — yeah, that’s right.
The rituals do not end after the race, as it is standard practice to watch the entire race again on TV upon returning home, followed by the driver’s banquet the following evening. These must be watched to gain the full experience. I don’t make the rules.
The race itself is borderline indescribable. It does not feel like it takes several hours to go 500 miles. During that time, you are going to be drinking your libation of choice, laughing with your friends and family, and watching with awe as Felix Rosenqvist passes David Malukas to beat him by 0.0233 seconds.
I did not grow up with the Indianapolis 500, but it is now something that is on my calendar every single year, like a birthday or a national holiday. It is can’t-miss viewing.
The left turns really are legit.
Jared Quigg is a reporter at The Correspondent who covers education, local government and feature news. Contact him at jquigg@morgancountycorrespondent.com or by calling 765-201-0005.
