It's a Race Track! It's a Golf Course! It's ...

... the Indianapolis Motor Speedway!

Indy got the month of May off to a fresh start 

on Saturday with the inaugural Indianapolis Grand Prix, 

an eighty lap race for Indy cars utilizing 

the IMS 2.4-mile road course.

While there may initially have been some concern

about how this new addition to the IndyCar schedule

might be accepted by fans, doubters were left 

in the dust by the large turnout of people who came

to wander the grounds and to watch the IndyCar

race, as well as several other support races.

A young fan watches as eventual winner, Simon Pagenaud, 

leads the field through Turns 7 and 8.

He was joined by thousands of other spectators who, 

snacks and sunscreen in tow, brought their

friends and families to the track for a day of sunshine,

blue skies, and the heady aroma of braking tires.

With about ninety minutes to spare before the start 

of the day's feature race, I decided to explore 

a part of the track I'd not seen before. 

I walked north along a golf cart path, towards Turn 4 

of the Speedway's oval. The grandstands can be seen 

looming in the background. A lot of other folks

took advantage of the groves of trees,

retreating to their shade between races to rest

and cool off, many enjoying a picnic lunch.

Big Bad-Ass Double Break Shell Shop

The shops spring up around town in early June to sell their wares. I walked by this one several times before I got the nerve to go in. It's like porno in that I'm curious, but afraid it will some how rub off on me and, even though I just took a peek, people would somehow know. But the pull was too strong, the graphics too bright, too garish and I succumbed to the allure of ... 
the FIREWORKS STORE!
                             
                                  


There was nothing girly about the place. None of merchandise took the form of something lacy. Nothing that looked like perfume, high heels, or strings of shiny beads. There were a number of items that could be said to resemble lipsticks, but were about eighteen inches long and had fuses on them.

                                 


I'd been told I'd find everything I might need to help create an atmosphere for astounding fireworks. But they didn't have any nice candies, strawberry cheesecake or champagne. They did, however, have an item that looked like it might be a gold-foil wrapped chocolate version of a jug of moonshine. It did say "Moonshine" on the label, too.

I also like models and I did want the folded paper representations of fire engines, race cars and helicopters. Can you possibly imagine all the workers being paid pennies a day to fold the paper around hundreds of these little toys?

I liked the little helicopters best because they seemed to be "mission ready," so to speak, but the race cars looked as though they'd suffered an immense pile-up in Turn One at the Speedway.

                                                     

I saw a couple groups of grown men standing around, giggling among themselves as though they'd found their first titty magazine, fingering the merchandise like little boys plotting mischief. Well, the fireworks they desired were vastly different than mine unless, of course, Viagra and black powder are one and the same. Then the warning below could be used for both, especially if the "other caution" somewhere contains the words "lasts more than four hours."

Pshooey! Wow! Bang! Ka-pow! Zowey! 

Three minutes pass and it's all over 'til next year.