“People will come, Roy,” he told me confidently as we walked the IMS grounds. I wasn’t so sure, frankly. “They’ll come to Indy for reasons they can’t even fathom. They’ll turn up at the Track not knowing for sure why they’re doing it. They’ll arrive at the gates as innocent as children, longing for the past.”
“Oh Christ, here we go,” I said, unamused. “Who are you, the black Robin Miller? Look here, mister — this isn’t …”
“Of course,” he continued, cutting me off. “‘We won’t mind if you look around,’ you’ll say. ‘It’s only $5 per person.’ They’ll pass over the money without even thinking about it: for it is money they have … and nostalgic debauchery they lack. And they’ll walk out to the bleachers, where they’ll sit shirtless & sloshed on a perfect afternoon. They’ll find their seats somewhere along pit road, where they sat when they were children and cheered their heroes. And they’ll watch the action & yell inappropriate things at women and it’ll be as if they dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick they’ll have to brush them away from their faces. People will come, Roy.”
“Go on,” I said, now intrigued.
“The one constant through all the years, Roy, has been Indy. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But Indy has marked the time. This Track, this Race: it’s apart of our past, Roy. It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again. Oh … people will come, Roy. People will most definitely come.”
I pondered his eloquent argument for a moment, and then responded in kind.
“F–K YEAH THEY WILL!!! U-S-A!!! U-S-A!!! U-S-A!!!”
By BP, May 13, 2010 @ 9:32 am
I offer this, from Moonlight Graham:
“This is my most special place in all the world, Roy. Once a place touches you like this, the wind nevers blows so cold again. You feel for it, like it was your child.”
By Marc, May 13, 2010 @ 9:35 am
Indy is my constant.
By DZ, May 13, 2010 @ 9:46 am
Dammit Roy! *wipes tear*…
By Bickelmom, May 13, 2010 @ 10:40 am
Gee, I hope my jerk banker brother-in-law doesn’t foreclose on my home before he sees the magic that is Indy. “When did these race cars get here?”
By boilerrx, May 13, 2010 @ 10:54 am
My father’s name was Bobby Rahal.
It’s an lrish name.
He was born in Ohio in 1953…
…and neversaw a big city…
…until he came back from Indianapolis in 1963.
He settled in Columbus, where he learned
to live and die with the fast cars of Indy.
My dad Died a little
when the split happened in 1996..
…died a lot the following May
when he was forced to run at Michigan on Memorial day…
…they were accused of throwing that Series.
He raced some in CART,
but nothing came of it.
Moved to Albany in 1998 …
…was already an old man
at mid ohio..
…when I was born in 1989.
My name’s Graham Rahal.
By Jason McVeigh, May 13, 2010 @ 11:06 am
Between Roy Hobbsons post and boilerrxs post I am weeping manly tears and I’m not ashamed for I say that a man can only cry for 2 things.. Being hit in the nut and the majesty of the Indy 500.
By P Daddy, May 13, 2010 @ 1:29 pm
Roy, please ask Terrence to take the majestic walk out to Turn 4, and to enter one of the concrete facilities we’ve all stumbled into. Ask him to take a piss in the sink, and when he finishes his business and exits into the bright sunlight he’ll exit with Tom Carnegie, Mario, AJ, Rick, Gordon, Tom, Al Sr. and Jr., Luyendyck, and all the other greats who’ve strolled these hallowed grounds. Please Terrence, for the love of all that is needed in the world of motorsports, please go take a piss in turn 4!
By Peggy, May 13, 2010 @ 2:03 pm
I can’t take any more of this. I’m crying! At a Pagoda Post! Honestly!
By irlfan, May 13, 2010 @ 3:09 pm
finally…i have found others that feel the same way about IMS as I do. My favorite memory of the Brickyard was not a race, not a practice session, not a pole day. My favorite memory is from the night before the 2005 Indy 500. I was working on the safety patrol, and our shift was just about over, so we went ahead and parked our vehicles under the bleachers in turn 2. Me and my drunken friends thought it would be a good idea to go up into the stands. We climbed all the way up the TV tower in turn two. The Pagoda was lit up, the track silent. We could see the start finish line and all the way down into turn 3. We all just stood there in awe, nobody spoke a word. I though about all the ordinary men that became legends at this track. I looked at the beginning of the back stretch where Bill Yukovich had flipped over the wall and lost his life. I thought of all the great drivers that have come here, and all the great drivers that will come here. I realized in that moment what this place was….what this place meant….I fell in love with IMS that day, and I will love her every day for the rest of my life.
By Larry Phelps, May 13, 2010 @ 4:03 pm
I smoked hash with Todd Rundgren’s sister in the Turn 2 Grass Lot before the 1993 500. She seemed to be having a good time.
By DZ, May 13, 2010 @ 4:23 pm
irlfan – I nominate you ‘comment which needs to be a post’ #2.
Every single, crazy damned time I come to the Pagoda, I’ve left with the same impression – within the Pagoda’s digital walls of amusement lies a family of people who, joined by nothing other than a shared digital forum, can express the joy of the common experience of the greatness that is the Indy 500 and the Indianapolis Motor Speedway,
By Jason McVeigh, May 13, 2010 @ 5:13 pm
I nominate the Larry Phelps comment, it sounded romantic in a weird, possibly illeagal kind of way.
By The Speedgeek, May 13, 2010 @ 5:54 pm
I second Jason’s motion. There is so much to be delighted with in Larry’s 25-word post that I can’t even pick out which part is my favorite.
By The Speedgeek, May 13, 2010 @ 5:57 pm
By the way, for everybody’s reference, coming here and reading anything while listening to the podcast of “The Talk of Gasoline Alley” is not recommended. Having done just that, I am now suffering from the most vicious case of vertigo one could imagine. Stories of Lee Wallard and stories of illicit drug use just don’t mix, kids.
By Peggy, May 13, 2010 @ 6:21 pm
Well Roy, whether you intended it or not, clearly you have struck a sentimental chord with some of us long-time Indy fans. I thank you for that. And for the vision that irlfan has left in my imagination. Over and out.
By Indy 500 is in the blood, May 13, 2010 @ 8:19 pm
I was lucky enough to grow up with Indy and it runs in my blood. I was very lucky to have walked amongst the drivers of Indy. I was there to see the pain, sorrow and joy of Indy. It will always runs in my blood. I forever will remember meeting such great people as Rick Mears, Danny Ongias and AJ Foyte. I remember waiting to hear Jim Neighbors sing Back home Again in Indiana and the great “Voice of the 500, Tom Binford. I was there when Gordon Smiley’s car was brought back to the garage after a horrific accident. When I saw his car I knew that he could not of survived this crash. I immediately felt very sad without even knowing this man. I thought about his family and all who called him a friend. I felt a deep loss of another man whom I had never met. I was in my early twenties and he in his early thirties. It was that bond and respect between two men who if he were standing there and I was the one w3ho had lost my life, I know he would have felt the very same feelings I had. It truly is in my blood. It is in the blood of every driver who puts on the suit. We challenge the speed for the love of the moment, the sounds, smells and the will to push a man made machine to the limits to achieve a feat that very few will ever know. And even though they all believe they can win, they also know very few will ever hold the biggest prize itself, the Borg Warner Trophy. But they push as hard as needed to be in the field. just think about a child somewhere in the world right now is being born and he or she too has it in their blood. It is in the blood that flows through every fan, track worker, admirer and those who put on the suit and drive to be the very best they can be. Bless them all.
By lazlo, May 13, 2010 @ 8:37 pm
It was 1969 and I was 11 years old. The day was overcast and I was in heaven. My dad and grandfather had arranged for me to join them as the USAC officials posted the official race results of the previous day’s “500”.
We then went through the garages (yeah the wooden white ones with all kinds of crazy phone numbers penciled on the walls)and I stood slack jawed as my granddad glad handed my heroes left and right. AJ, Gurney, more than I can remember. We ended up in Mel Kenyon’s garage slamming Sprite while I sat in the Sprite Special.
The memories are indelible and we owe it to the next generation to pass the torch properly.
With the exception of an off year, while living in Denver; this will mark my 41st year visiting the greatest sporting event in the world.
IMS I thank you.
By Brian, May 13, 2010 @ 10:47 pm
Since when is “Bobby” or “Rahal” Irish?
By Heit Harrelson, May 14, 2010 @ 9:23 am
The Indy 500, where tank-tops are formal wear and tan lines are like aborigene tribal paint.
By splash n go, May 15, 2010 @ 3:52 pm
Nothing was more well written and timed than larry’s post. Thank you all. For we have Methanol coursing through our veins and Indy running through our piss into the creek behind turn 3. I was born with Indy and will die with Indy. Nothing else matters.