INDIANAPOLIS — At the first Indianapolis 500 I covered for The Associated Press, the pole-winning speed was 170 mph, the 33-car field was all male drivers, the old, cramped garages were made of wood and there wasn’t a single corporate suite.
My, how things have changed since 1970.

Heading into Sunday’s 93rd running of the 500 — and my 40th and last Indy — Helio Castroneves will start from the pole with a four-lap average of 224.864, there will be three women in the lineup, the spacious, modern garages are made of concrete and there are 128 luxurious suites overlooking the famed 2.5-mile oval.
Now, thanks to the struggling economy, the long battle between the Indy Racing League and CART/Champ Car, the rise in popularity of NASCAR, the dominance of foreign drivers at Indy and the fact that people just have more to do these days, the race that drew nearly 400,000 spectators in my early days now attracts fewer than 250,000.
And yet it’s still the biggest single-day crowd in sports and a thrilling day to be part of.
No matter how many times I see the prerace pageantry that winds up with “Gentleman and ladies, start your engines,” I still get goosebumps when those powerful IndyCar engines roar to life, thousands of balloons soar into the air, and that huge, electric crowd roars in anticipation of the green flag.
Covering auto racing was never a part of my plan when I began my journalism career 43 years ago.
The Indy 500 was simply a sporting event I listened to on the radio during the annual Memorial Day picnic.
When I first heard I was going to help cover the 1970 race for the AP, I went to a book store to try to get some background on a sport and an event I knew almost nothing about.
The only thing I could find was Andy Granatelli’s “They Call Me Mr. 500,” chronicling the longtime racer and car owner’s career and the 1969 victory by his driver, Mario Andretti. My prep for the big event was reading that book from cover to cover, twice.
I arrived at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway for the first time that May sort of like a country boy making his first trip to New York City, gawking at the towering grandstands and overwhelmed by the people, the colors and the ear-splitting noise from the racetrack.
I was awe-struck, and more than a little intimidated, when Bloys Britt, AP’s motorsports editor, greeted me with the assignment to do a feature on A.J. Foyt, already a three-time winner at Indy.
In those days, the teams mostly worked with the old wooden garage doors closed, keeping out the riffraff.
With some trepidation, I walked to Foyt’s garage and knocked on the door. A crewman cracked one of the double doors a few inches, peered out and growled: “Whaddaya want?”
“I’d like to talk to Mr. Foyt,” I answered meekly.
SLAM!
Crestfallen, I began to walk back to the media center, ready to admit my failure and expecting to be sent back to Chicago, where I had been working as a newsman since February 1969.
That was the moment I found a new hero.
J.C. Agajanian, a longtime car and track owner from California, was riding past in his golf cart, saw my expression — near tears — and stopped to see if he could help.
After a brief introduction and explanation, Agajanian drove me back to Foyt’s garage, where he ushered me through that daunting door and walked me up to Foyt.
“Talk to this kid, Tex,” he said.
“Why should I?” Foyt replied.
“He’s new, and he needs a story,” Aggie insisted.
I got my interview, the first of hundreds with the enigmatic and irascible Foyt, and a few weeks later the AP made me its sports editor in Indianapolis. Through the years, including the last 30 as AP’s motorsports writer — now auto racing writer — Indy has been the high point of each season.
I’ve seen some amazing changes.
The most obvious is the speed, which topped out with Luyendyk’s 236.986 mph in qualifying in 1996. IRL rules slowed the cars down after that. Still, most drivers warm up at 210 these days, and it’s not unusual to see race laps over 220.
There’s also been a much bigger emphasis on safety, and drivers today have a better-than-average chance of getting through their careers without serious injury.
Fire in crashes, the factor that killed and injured more drivers than anything else, has been virtually eliminated, thanks to rubber fuel bladders originally invented for helicopters in Vietnam and introduced at Indy in 1974.
One of the most important recent additions has been the energy-absorbing SAFER barriers that line the oval’s concrete walls.
Another big change has been the arrival of women in the garage and on the track.
Mary Hulman, whose family owns the speedway, couldn’t even enter the garage area when she was a car owner in the 1960s. But Janet Guthrie broke the gender barrier here, racing in 1977. Women drivers haven’t exactly become commonplace at Indy, but this year’s race again will feature three in the lineup.
In my time covering the speedway, I’ve had just about every kind of emotion a human being can manage.
I cried in 1973 when, after three days of rain and false starts, the race was run and a crewman was killed on pit road by a safety vehicle only seconds after a terrible, fiery crash that eventually took the life of driver Swede Savage.
That gray, cold, miserable day was by far my worst of hundreds of days here.
Tears ran down my cheeks as I sat typing away in the old open-air pressbox hanging from the second deck of the massive front straightaway grandstand.
But at least I was out of danger.
The previous year, I was working the south end of the pits when the pace car, driven by a local auto dealer, slammed into a portable photographers grandstand.
As the car swerved toward me, I dove onto the ground, letting the then-18-inch-high concrete pit wall block for me. I then raced after the skidding car, arriving at the scene seconds after the accident.
I got a mumbled quote from the stunned driver — something about missing his braking point amid all the excitement — and called it in to the pressbox.
Since then, I’ve spent my race days at Indy in the pressbox or media center — out of harm’s way.
And there have been far more good times than bad for me at the old Brickyard.
I have been lucky enough to watch several generations of racers come through Indy.
Although they may not remember, I gave two-time Indy winner Al Unser Jr. — son of four-time winner Al Unser — and longtime driving star Michael Andretti — Mario’s son — quarters for gum balls when they were little kids, keeping them busy while I interviewed their fathers.
I held third-generation drivers and current Indy stars Marco Andretti, Michael’s son, and Graham Rahal, son of 1986 Indy winner Bobby Rahal, in my arms when they were babies.
There were a few dark years, too, beginning in 1996, when Tony George’s Indy Racing League divided the sport and kept some of the best open-wheel racers away from Indy.
But, eventually, they returned. And, slowly, the 500 has regained its status as one of the premier racing events in the world, with last year’s unification of the two American open-wheel series the final step in bringing everyone back together.
Just in time.
With my retirement only weeks away, Sunday’s Indy will be my last for AP.
I’m sure the prerace festivities will still be filled with that special electricity generated by the huge crowd and that the daring drivers will display the same kind of skill and courage as the ones who raced here in 1970.
I can’t imagine a better 40 years, seeing the speedway change with the times and interacting with literally hundreds of drivers, car owners, crew chiefs, officials and members of the media.
Of course, Mario Andretti insists I missed the only “really good” 500, the one he won the year before I got here.
Who knows? Maybe I’ll get to see his grandson, Marco, win the big one before I go.