A Day At Indy

Waking up on race morning, it is quite a giddy feeling. The alarm was set in plenty of time, just in case. But the excitement I was feeling was more than an enough to get me up in plenty of time. A few minutes to gather my stuff and have a quick brekkie, and I was down in the lobby waiting for the bus to bring me to the airport.

There were no direct shuttles to the track from the hotel, only the airport. Getting a taxi solo would be a tad bit costly. There was a couple of guys I met on the bus to the airport heading that way too. Likable chaps, whom I had a nice chat with about the race, it been my first time and such. It was only when I arrived at the airport for the shuttle bus that I realized I was there an hour too early for the bus. Despite that, a long queue was already waiting.

The two guys I met, along with another couple, we decided to get a taxi. It was 45 dollars, split five ways, so pretty cheap looking at it like that. On the way, we learned that the couple had actually one a competition to be there and were photographed with the pole winner the day before. Actually, it wasn’t their first time to win. They had pictures of when they won an IRL contest and a few others. Definitely had me wondering if they had the luck of the Irish running through them.

Even at nine am, Indy on race day was already busy. The sun was beating down, the sidewalks were filled with people streaming to the track. I got my ticket at the booth easy enough. Another reason for wanting to be there early was that I had to pick mine up, since I only booked mine a few days before. 90 dollars for a race ticket was a great deal.

I split up from the others to mooch around outside the track and work through the vendors. It was a shame it was so warm, I didn’t really feel like lugging around a whole bunch of memorabilia I would’ve loved to picked. The one thing that really caught my attention was how drivers, mere hours before they were going to be strapped in to go racing, were out signing autographs in the haulers. Kvapil, Gilliland, Robby Gordon and Dave Blaney all had long queues of fans waiting to get their John Hancock. In hindsight, I should’ve queued – but I wanted to get in to the track.

My seat was located at the entrance to pit lane, so I had a long way to walk down the long home straight. I picked up some essentials; food, drink and more drink for the day. The last thing I wanted to do was to hope and skip down for them during the race. I took my seat nice and early and enjoyed the view, listening to the announcers as the seats filled – just waiting for it all to begin.

It’s one thing to watch motor-racing, but you can’t really experience it without seeing it live. The sights, the sound, the smell – it truly is one of a kind. The crowd too play their part. The boos hissed out for the brothers Busch and the likes of Gordon and Johnson. Cheers rang out for fan favourites Earnhardt, Kahne and Martin. Even as the cars toured around on the pace lap, the sound was epic.

And then the beasts were let loose. Standing up with who knows how many thousand people, cheering as they roared past for the first time. Then, just standing there for the first five laps. Few words can actually describe it.

So the race wasn’t a classic. The tire problems that arose shut the race down to short sprints before yellows were called out for tire changes. Despite the setback, it didn’t ruin the day. I don’t think anything could ruin the day.

The Brickyard 400 is a race I will never forget.