Indianapolis Motor Speedway

Vroom vroom, bitches!

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As we continued to drive north toward Chicago, Adam said, “I don’t think we need a full day at the dunes. What’s in Indianapolis? Hey, what about checking out the Indianapolis Speedway?” I pulled out my phone, saw they had a museum, so we made the split-second decision to trade nature for asphalt.

Do I seem like a car person? Probably not. And honestly, I’m not. However, growing up, we watched a lot of NASCAR in our home. And now, both Adam and I watch F1 on the weekends (LECLERC! LECLERC!). I was all in on visiting the museum, especially once I heard that they had a special NASCAR exhibit. And if you've been around a while, you might remember I've shot race cars before.

We arrived early, beating the crowds. This meant we experienced the museum in a strange silence. It felt ironic to walk through the halls of absolute quiet, looking at machines that can hit 140 decibels.

I don’t research museums before a visit. Which means that sometimes you get the splendor of the Art Institute of Chicago, and sometimes you get the utilitarian concrete of a race track. But you’re not here for a beautiful building. You’re here to see some race cars!

One of my sisters LOVED Dale Earnhardt. Seeing his car up close felt a bit like visiting a shrine.

I appreciated the quiet as it felt reverent, an homage to the deep history of the place. I kept thinking that I was in church on a random Tuesday, when the silence is heavy and waiting.

“To the victor go the spoils.”

We originally planned to just do the museum loop and get back on the road to Indiana Dunes National Park. But then the front desk person said Adam’s favorite magic words: “Do you want to add a tour to your ticket?” And that’s how we ended up on a golf cart, driving into the heart of the Speedway.

I can’t say that it was only Adam’s idea. I wanted to go on a tour, especially since the Indianapolis Motor Speedway is iconic!

The garage area at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway is known as “Gasoline Alley,” a nickname dating back to the early years of the race. Initially, it referred to a specific spot where cars would refuel, but over time, it came to be associated with the main garage area.

Driving past garage 1, you can sense its importance. That’s because garage 1 is associated with A.J. Foyt, a four-time winner of the Indianapolis 500. He has been involved with the Indy 500 as either a driver or team owner every year since 1958. His unbroken streak of participation ensures his team’s prime garage location, i.e., garage 1.

Our tour guide drove us around the expansive grounds, towards the Pagoda. Once again, we were surrounded by silence, except for the wind whipping through our ears on this blustery day. But that silence was about to break.

The Pagoda, centered on the start/finish line of the track, houses race control, safety, timing and scoring, and radio broadcast booths.

The podium. Our tour guide offered to take our picture, but we laughed, said no thanks, and took a selfie, per uzh.

Our tour guide explained the history of the Pagoda and the changes to the scoring system over time.

Timing and scoring booth

In October 1961, the brick race track was entirely covered with asphalt except for a 36-inch strip at the start/finish line. The original 3.2 million bricks are still buried underneath the asphalt, inches below the current track surface.

Downtown Indianapolis from Roger Penske’s suite. Roger Penske is the owner of the Speedway, but is also a very well-known racing team owner. His name is synonymous with racing in the US.

Typically, the tour lets you walk out to the start/finish line to kiss the bricks. But today, the track was hot because an IndyCar team was doing private testing. Instead of standing on the bricks, we stood in Roger Penske’s private suite, watching two cars scream down the straightaway at 200+ mph. It was incredible.

Adam yelled, ‘Take a picture!’ In my panic to capture a car crossing the finish line at 220 mph, I forgot about the little gap between the two windows.

I caught the other one in the pit lane.

Last year’s winner on the outside of the Pagoda. It’s tradition for the winner to drink milk, an odd quirk that started in the 1930s.

Our tour guide took us down near the fences to see them run one last lap. That sound was so physical, just absolute chest-rattling. Even though the inside of the museum felt like a quiet church, the Speedway isn’t built for silence. I could not imagine the sound of 36 IndyCars on the track at once.

Considering we hadn’t planned to make this pit stop (😉), it was the perfect detour.

Cheers.