A crash course at the Indy 500: Seeing the action is not always part of the experience

By John Katsilometes

Monday, May 31, 2010 | noon

The racecar’s disintegration unfolded on the 199th of 200 laps at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, where the track straightens between Turns 3 and 4.

The explosive incident happened as British driver Mike Conway had attempted to outmaneuver Ryan Hunter-Reay, a good, young driver from Boca Raton, Fla. Conway had led the Indy 500, briefly, in the final 10 laps. His was likely the fastest car in the field by the end of the race.

And Hunter-Reay? Suffice to say he was not in such a strong position. He had just run out of gas, which was unfortunate because it would be impossible to win this race with no fuel.

It also was unfortunate because Conway was thundering behind Hunter-Reay, attempting to make up ground on eventual winner Dario Franchitti.

Conway’s right front wheel touched the left front wheel of the abruptly slowing Hunter-Reay, which is a potentially lethal incident when one of the cars is running at 200 mph and the other is suddenly powerless.

At that moment, Conway’s car lifted from the track, rising like a Cessna jet on takeoff -- catch the entire violent sequence at IndyStar.com. Once airborne, the car spun 180 degrees and hurtled into what is called the “catch fence.” This tall, protective linkage catches cars and their related debris so they won’t vault into the crowd.

Hunter-Reay ducked his head as the rear end of Conway’s No. 22 car ascended toward that fence. Conway’s vehicle, valued at $300,000 and good enough on this day to win the race, simply blew apart. It disintegrated entirely, reduced to a pile of malformed parts and scrap metal. The guys at Gold & Silver Pawn wouldn’t even consider an offer for a loan on what’s left of this once high-performance racecar.

It was a miracle that neither driver was seriously injured, or even killed. Conway was treated for a fractured leg. Hunter-Reay is to have surgery on a torn tendon in his right thumb, but that injury happened early in the race during a collision in the pits. He was not hurt in the race-ending accident.

That crash forced the race to end under caution, with Franchitti cruising to the checkered flag as the crowd of 350,000 roared once more. I was in that crowd, yes, with several members of my family. We were there when this all happened.

But we did not see this wreck. We didn’t know who was involved. Nor did those around us. No idea. And we occupied some of the best seats for paying customers at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, in the shaded grandstand and maybe 200 yards from the start-finish line.

From those seats, we saw less than half the track, and even far less than half the action on this day. We were not always able to follow an event that played out like a high-octane chess match. There was a lot of action in the pits, action far removed from our vantage point. There was ample, nuanced calculation from the drivers and their racing teams on when to pit for gas and when to hope for the best. You can’t get this from the stands at Indy, or at least I couldn’t. I’m sort of used to more obvious access to an event I’m watching from close range.

So you wonder, why bother with this event when you can’t, in fact, follow the event? It would seem like attending the Super Bowl with the view from your 50-yard-line seats obscuring half the field and one of the goal posts.

But the Indianapolis 500 is an event you must attend to understand why it is still considered, by race fans and its own marketing team, “The Greatest Spectacle in Racing.” It is that.

Indy is the place where fans cry at Jim Nabors’ booming recitation of “Back Home in Indiana” and Florence Henderson’s sweet take on “God Bless America.” Yes, in Indianapolis in 2010, Gomer and Carol Brady are still relevant and revered.

It’s mystifying, in a way, but also genuinely touching.

The crowd roars at the parade of military officers, pageant contestants rolling by the grandstand in new Chevy Camaros and F-16s soaring overhead.

There are turkey legs as large as bowling pins served at Indy. Fair-skinned kids serve terrific gyros from food stands connected to trucks by a trailer hitch. A guy wearing a shirt with a curvaceous female silhouette next to the phrase, “Tiger Would,” poses for photos. Coolers measuring 14 inches-by-14 inches, almost all containing some sort of lite beer and/or hard alcohol, are permitted in the grandstands.

All at Indy.

The 100-year-old, six-cylinder, Marmon “Wasp” that was driven by Ray Harroun to victory in the 1911 race (at an average speed of 74.59) is among dozens of vintage winning cars on display at the Speedway museum.

On Friday, known as Carb Day, fans who paid $10 to tour the Indianapolis grounds, watched ZZ Top perform on the infield. About 50,000 turned out.

The temperature Sunday reached 97 degrees, officially, and more than 130 on the track. It was the hottest race in Indy 500 history, and a reminder of where that now-trite phrase “it’s a dry heat” originated. It originated in dizzying Midwest humidity. I’d estimate that more than 100,000 fans sat in direct sunlight for the entire four-hour event. These are tough, tough sports fans.

Yet, for a crowd of more than 300,000, it was not a terribly difficult commute. Indy 500 officials know how to move a crowd. We drove to a mall parking lot and caught a shuttle to the speedway. We walked back to that mall, maybe a 15-minute hike, and were able to skate free without much frustration. I’ve seen far worse traffic snarls at events in Las Vegas, at Sam Boyd Stadium and our own Las Vegas Motor Speedway. Officials plan well, but the fans, especially, are well-educated about how to get in and out of Indy.

As we walked out of this year’s Indy 500, word spread about this terrible accident late in the race. Fans with radios announced what had happened, that Conway was being airlifted from the Speedway, but he was not seriously injured. I thought of how the experience would have been enhanced had that accident transpired right in front of us.

Not hardly. At least, not enough to detract from the fun we had over three days. At this spectacle, the race is only part of the greater whole. I’ll plan to be back. But next time, I’m packing a radio.

Follow John Katsilometes on Twitter at twitter.com/JohnnyKats.