Oilpressure

As I spent most of yesterday watching raindrops hit the pavement of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, I was taken back to my childhood. Beginning in 1967, my father decided to add to our Month of May ritual by attending Pole Day each year. It was him, my two brothers and me. I don’t ever recall my mother going to qualifying, but I could be wrong on that.

We would get up and leave at 3:00 Saturday morning, and be at the track in our Race Day seats in Stand A, before the first morning practice. We would watch qualifying, or Time Trials as many referred to it back then, until the gun went off. Then we would pile into the car and drive back. My father considered hotels a luxury, not a necessity.

More times than not, Pole Day was affected by rain. There was one year in there, and I can’t remember which, where we sat in our Stand A seats under the overhang all day long and never saw a race car. Not one. Not only did it rain all day, but it was cold. Very cold. I remember wearing heavy coats and being wrapped up in a blanket – and it was still cold.

Did I complain? Not one bit. I look back on those days as some of my favorite childhood memories. OK, maybe the day we saw no cars was not so great; but those rain-delay days stand out as very special times – not only for me, but my entire family.

My family was very close, but with the difference in ages between me and my two brothers – we had different things on our mind. 1969 is a perfect example. We saw practice, but not a single car qualified – not even Jigger Sirois. We actually got to see Mario Andretti drive the ill-fated Lotus 64 that morning. He would destroy tit the next Wednesday. We sat through those hours watching trucks go around and around. I was ten, but my two brothers were sixteen and nineteen respectively. To say that the three of us had different interests at those ages would be an understatement.

But one thing we all had in common on those days was that we wanted to see race cars on-track. I was the only real sports fan in my family. We were all fans of the Tennesse Vols, but no one but me really cared that much about football. Most of my family was really into music, except me. I have no musical talent, and I’m not really interested in it either – except for listening to it. But the one thing my family all had in common, we all loved the Indianapolis 500 – and that meant we even loved those days of sitting in anticipation watching the raindrops fall and hearing about that mythical window over Terre Haute.

If the emergency vehicles started turning laps, that meant track officials thought there was a chance to get some running in. If the sky got brighter, even better. There was no better feeling than sitting there for hours and suddenly seeing the sun come out.

And then there was that magical sound. From our seats, we could see Gasoline Alley and almost see the old white garages that ran east and west. You knew things were getting close when you would hear that distinctive sound of an Offenhauser being revved up, followed by that familiar backfire. When youo heard that, you knew things were about to get real.

As I’ve grown older, I have experienced more downtime for rain at IMS as an adult. The 2004 and 2007 races come to mind. Since I was first credentialed in 2010, there have been many practice and qualifying days spent waiting for the track to dry, but being inside a dry media center makes it a lot more bearable.

But there was something to be said about those cold days in the 60s and early 70s, that somehow create a racing bond between me and my brothers and my father. I have a lot of great memories growing up and attending the Indianapolis 500 Mile Race each year with my family. Oddly enough, those days of watching raindrops fall are just as precious to me.

George Phillips

This entry was posted on May 16, 2024 at 4:04 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.