It’s hard for me to believe another year has passed.
Another year, you say? But it’s May.
Well, in many ways, my entire life evolves around the month of May.
First and foremost, next week Nicole and I will celebrate our 25th anniversary. Where in the hell has the time gone?
We met, unsurprisingly, at a newspaper in Wyoming. Since that time, we have traveled the United States in this crazy business. It’s hard to believe we have owned the Mariposa Gazette for more than eight years now and we’ve lived in the county for more than 10 years.
Yet here we are, still going strong and now marking a significant milestone in our lives.
As I have documented before, our anniversary also falls around the time of the Indianapolis 500.
As my friend Jim Rhodes said recently, “Oh yea, that’s like a religion to you, huh?”
Quite observant from the man from Alabama where football is religion and religion is, well, I’ll let him explain that one to you.
This past weekend, I stayed glued to my television for hours watching qualifying for the race. Yes, I watched cars go in circles for hours, all on their own on the famed 2-1/2 mile speedway.
And it was gripping.
The top speed for the pole was just over 232 miles per hour. Think about that. Qualifying is four laps, or 10 miles, which means 16 distinct turns. And when it was all said and done, that 232-plus is the average speed over that distance.
One driver clocked 242 going into turn one and never lifted. To say it takes some bravery to pilot one of those rocket ships is an understatement.
As Rhodes said, it is a religion when you are from Indiana. The entire year centers around the month of May. There’s a parade, parties everywhere and it’s just, well, a religion that transpires in the capital city of Indiana during the month.
IndyCar racing has been my passion since the first time I walked into the cathedral that is the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. I was just a young boy and my dad and his friends took us over to the track for the race.
We had to get there at around 5 a.m. to just find a place to park. The traffic in Speedway, where the race is actually held, is nuts on race day. I would suspect that hasn’t changed.
The reason is the massive complex is located in what is otherwise a residential neighborhood. Some people make big money letting people park in their yards for the day. We did that back then.
Since that first time going into the speedway, I have been hooked.
There’s just something about watching these sleek inverted airplanes with wings fly around that track. It’s hard to imagine what it takes to actually be able to pilot one of those cars.
Not to mention during the actual race, which is this Sunday morning, when 32 of your closest friends are doing the same thing inches apart. And some 350,000 fans (it’s sold out) are yelling and screaming and watching what is known as “the greatest spectacle in racing.”
For me, this is obviously the pinnacle of IndyCar racing, but it’s also just one race. There are 20-plus more that happen throughout the season, two in California.
One was already held in Long Beach. That race is considered the second most sacred in the series. Living where I do, one of these days I’m going to get down there to see that race. Maybe I’ll hit the lottery and be able to get one of those penthouse suites where you can watch from above.
The other California race will come later this year and is the season finale in Monterey. There will be a lot on the line when the green flag drops at Laguna Seca this year. I’m hoping I will be able to get over there.
I’ve been a couple of times and it’s just a great atmosphere. Now that they have moved it back to the final race of the season, it means even more.
As a boy growing up in the Hoosier State, it was always my dream to drive an IndyCar. Obviously, dreams are just that in many ways. Still, I always hold out hope.
Okay, so I will never drive an IndyCar, but a guy can still dream.
I have been on the track in Sonoma and that was a thrilling experience. However, I’d rather be able to take my own Camaro and see what it will do on a track. But they won’t let me. Dang convertible top.
I also find it ironic that when I was learning to drive so many decades ago, my mom would get irritated with me because I was driving too slow.
Wow, have things changed. Now, my wife of nearly 25 years can sometimes get irritated with me because I tend to drive too fast. How life changes.
There is just that need for speed that I am convinced came to me when I was growing up around the dirt tracks back home and then that first trip to the speedway. I was fascinated at the courage some of those racers had, especially those on the dirt tracks where a helmet and some goggles were about the only safety measures.
Today, even the 232 mile-per-hour cars are relatively safe. The innovations that have come with racing technology are incredible and many are applied to the vehicles we drive each day.
Some can scoff at people like me who are so taken in with cars going in circles. But even that has provided advancements in safety that all of us should respect and enjoy.
Not to mention the intrigue that happens in this day and age of racing. Every mili-second counts. Losing a second or two during a pit stop can mean the difference between winning and losing.
The sport has become so refined that microseconds matter and simulators are now the norm.
That’s a whole lot different when our old neighbor, Larry, back in Indiana, used to head across the state line to Charleston, Ill., to race his car. Dust, debris and danger were everywhere.
Yet nobody seemed to care. Even young whippersnappers like me were allowed into the pits.
It’s funny how the world evolves and things change, generally for the better in cases like this. Safety and common sense are now part of racing, unlike back in the day.
So as I head into the next week, there’s a big race, a big anniversary and who knows what else will come along.
As I think about all of this, I must admit, life is pretty darned good right now.
Greg Little is editor of the Mariposa Gazette and can be reached at greg@mariposagazette.com
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