Oilpressure

By Susan Phillips

It’s hard to believe this will be the 20th year I will be attending the Indianapolis 500 with my son, Eric. Hard to believe that time has gone by so fast. I think of that middle school kid with braces that first year that began the streak in 2004. That was the year of the tornado after the race and I figured he would never come back. Instead, it was a the start of a love that would last over 20 years, hopefully. Lucky for him Tony Kanaan has been racing for 22 years, as he has been a fan ever since Kanaan won the Nashville race in 2004. He has a die cast of every car that Kanaan drove until his retirement. I don’t know what he will do this year. Who will he root for his year?

His first star encounter was Mario Andretti. We were walking through a parking lot the day before the 2004 race – Eric’s first, when we saw Mario trying to escape autograph hounds on a golf cart. We had George’s daughter, Katie, with us that year. Katie has Down Syndrome and is two years older than Eric, but she could pass for a 9 year-old even today. As Mario was speeding by, he spotted Katie over to the side. He wheeled his golf cart around to give Katie a huge hug. Eric didn’t really know who Mario Andretti was at that point, but he knew the name. That 30-second act of kindness made a huge impression on Eric.

I did misspeak on my attendance since I missed the race in 2022, as I was called back to the hospital. I remember that day well, after being in the hospital for four days, we had hoped and prayed that I would be released to go to the race—and I was. I remember the reckless abandon of rushing home to pack our bags and stopping to get my prescriptions filled—and then the phone rang asking me to return to the hospital. I guess that race was the one that caused a commotion because I insisted that George go without me. Part of that reasoning was to spare Eric the thought that my life may truly be in danger since things were bad enough that George did not attend the race. I wanted both my guys to enjoy the race without worrying that my life was in dire straits—it really was an abundance of caution on the part of my oncologist.

I remember the good times that Eric and whatever friend he invited scoured the victory lane and at times, the track for souvenirs. He got a few orchids from the winner’s wreath (Dan Wheldon and Takuma Sato’s wreath) and several tear-offs from the visors. I remember when he listened to what I said about the race and I felt like his mom. I also remember the bad times where he was rude—the teenage years were hard—and I held back the tears as we sat in the stands. I remember conveying how important the moments before the race were. He treats “Back Home Again in Indiana” as a sacred hymn. Those moments and memories are important building blocks to a relationship. A shared reverence as it were.

The Indy 500 is a great event to build your relationships with your family. I’m glad I have 20 years to look back on—and God-willing here’s to 20 more.

Don’t Blink. Life goes faster than you think.

This entry was posted on May 7, 2024 at 4:02 am and is filed under Indianapolis 500. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.