1. A Formula One Indy Speedway Weekend!!

These are follow-up stories to my chance meeting with Sir Frank Williams on my way from the Formula One race in Montreal to the Formula One race at Indy, in 2004.

 

It’s six thirty pm Wednesday, during the week before the 2005 United States Formula One Grand Prix weekend, and dust flies as my Toyota Echo rental car swings into campground number one. Another Indianapolis summer-scorcher is in store for me. Coincidentally, campground number one is kitty-corner from the famous tracks turn number one. On my left there is a long commercial trailer in place, it’s logos indicate bath facilities. It will serve as showers for the camping Formula One fans, at five dollars a head. Although the thought of that stream last year in campground number three, where I took my sweet whore-bath and had felt so (excuse this one fellow non-believers) re-born, is giving me a nostalgic feeling. I want to stop by that area again and check the water level anyway, just to see if it has changed at all. Hey, I’m no Al Gore, but having been raised around lakes and rivers, I’ve always been a bit of a nature lover. Dad worked for the Corps, and was always out on the water.

The immense campground sits empty, and only a few yellow – shirted security guards are kicking up dust, having a ball, driving around on their quad-runners. Officially, I’m not supposed to be here until Friday night. My parking sticker says Friday and Saturday only, but I hope to fly under the radar for a few days. If not, sleeping in the car somewhere for a couple of nights is plan B. That’s certainly not new for me, I lived in my Toyota Celica on the beach in southern California for six months one year.

I park and walk around a bit and check a few of the empty lot spaces for even-ground, many campers before me have left ruts during the wet years. I’ve brought only the basics with me: pillow, sheet, blanket. A nice spot with some lush grass would be ideal, but there are none. I set up my tent in record time, facing south, in the shade of a huge poplar tree. By positioning my tent in this way I am sure to be woken up early in the morning by the hot sun, and not miss a thing no matter how hung-over I am. The many cold beers on the road from the rental car place in downtown Detroit have numbed my arthritic back and sore feet a bit, so moving around is easier now. Not being financially well-off enough to be a professional drinker like my father was, alas, I am just an occasional drunk. ‘Gary’, and his wife from Maryland (the only other campers for miles who have also arrived early), stop by and chat awhile. Along with being Formula One fans they are primarily Rolex-Series fans, and have a lot of stories about meeting those drivers at different events. Gary is a pot-head and offers me a puff. I ask them to join me downtown at the blues bar later on, but they have other plans. They say goodbye and head back to their tent. I’m feeling quite Dandy about my upcoming Yankee weekend. An important person, (Sir Frank Williams) from the land of Dickens and Shakespeare, liked my story and invited me to a meet & greet this year! There’s just a few of us early campers here today. Later tonight, returning from the bar, there will be hundreds. When the sun sets and the stars come out they’ll multiply again many times. Raceday, there will be tens of thousands. Some even erecting elaborate scaffolding to support all their: stereos, coolers, barbeques, canopies, fireworks, flag poles, hi-def TV’s, Jacuzzis, lawn furniture, banners, bicycles, dog-houses, drunken strangers, dumb-bells, mothers in law-you name it. I’m no poet, but here’s a go anyway:

They’ll come with their Colemans, they’ll come with their wives, they’ll bring lots of beer and have times of their lives. They’ll come in their pop-tops, they’ll come with their tent, they’ll bring lots of pig-meat they love the cheap rent. They’ll come in their Motorhomes- top of the line, they’ll come in Winnebagos and even bring wine. They’ll come with their radios, they’ll come with their flags, they’ll come with their corn, and they’ll bring bags and bags. Dr Seuss would be proud! Yes it will be a grand gathering of Formula One fans, at The Indy Speedway.

Two hundred and thirty one years ago The Marquis De’ Lafayette was probably having a drink with his best mate George Washington (the hemp farmer) about now. It hasn’t got much to do with this story, I just like to throw it in every now and then. It’s something my mother imparted to me many years ago about my heritage, but I’ve since nearly forgotten. I pop in the latest Motorhead CD and relax.

Sitting in the sun-baked Toyota Echo rental car, I grab another cold Molson Ice out of the cooler and gaze across Georgetown Street at the back of the sleeping Speedways grandstands. The famed ‘pagoda’ rises majestically in the late afternoon shadows. I say to myself: “This is gonna be a great weekend!!”

 

Don Lugers with Sir Frank

The original photo of Sir Frank and me at the Husky station, signed at top right.

author
I started writing again after a chance encounter, at a gas station near London, Ontario, on my way from the Formula One race, in Montreal, to the Formula One race at Indy, in 2004, when I had a chance encounter with Sir Frank Williams.
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