No pics today: the drive down from Lansing was the usual 5 hr monotone of farmland, dead animals, and road signs. Nice apple-pecan pie at a small-town cafe tho. It's the little things that keep me going.
On a whim, we decided to check out the Speedway on the way through to our motel in Crawfordville. Wrong. 3:30PM and there was HUGE traffic trying to get IN to the track. Uh, people...the race is TOMORROW! The boulevards are choc-a-bloc with campers, trailers, lawnchairs, BBQ's and beers. Every home is offering parking, hospitality or both. So, off to the motel, 40 miles west and filled to the pool-edge with pot-bellied fans in race garb, mean age: 50. Lucky we booked ahead, or I'd still be driving. Local TV of the Indy parade through town has Derek "Look at her chest! Look at her chest!" Daley, of all people, narrating. For some reason, the sidewalks are PACKED with spectators. Indy really does seem to be a big deal here. Who knew?
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