Musings on Majestic Debauchery at Indy

It has taken nearly a week for my body to regulate itself from the majestic debauchery that was Thursday, May 21st through Monday, May 25th, 2009. Six and one half days to recover from four and one half days of fun. Regardless of economy, the brain continues to write checks the body can't cash.

This downward spiral - annual Indy debauchery - leading to premature aging - leading to lower tolerance for debauchery - leading to longer recovery time, means that logically this cycle cannot sustain itself without changing one or more of the variables. Aging sucks and nowhere is it more apparent in my life than during my 5 glorious days in Indy. I therefore conclude that I willingly accept this aging process and that the variables must change if I wish to continue. Play smarter, not harder.

I will say that with age (er, experience) does come some benefit.

This year, we became a Lot 3G sensation, not only as in years past simply for our infectious and mirthful comradeship, but for our sheer technical brilliance in fun-having. One member of our group funds his annual Indy trip in a most elegantly symmetrical way - he carves ice sculptures during the winter months for festivals and events and contests. In show of legendary Indy trip spirit, he arranged for two of his fellow ice-carving brethren to come down, gratis, and carve three blocks of ice into an Indycar, the Borg-Warner trophy (aka Vodka Luge), and of course a .95 scale Danica.

Campers and camp lot supervisory personnel came from far and wide to witness the greatest show of Indy 500 weekend artisanship Lot 3G may have ever had. Later, one particular carving became the centerpiece in the now legendary tale of Saturday night debauchery. Those present will regale this story for years. During the noise of chainsaws, heat of sun, and coolness of spraying ice, I sat back for a moment to absorb that evening in Indy with recollections of the roof tarring scene from Shawshank Redemption: (Red narrarating) "We sat and drank with the sun on our shoulders and felt like free men. Hell, we could have been tarring the roof of one of our own houses. We were the lords of all creation. As for Andy - he spent that break hunkered in the shade, a strange little smile on his face, watching us drink his beer... You could argue he'd done it to curry favor with the guards. Or, maybe make a few friends among us cons. Me, I think he did it just to feel normal again, if only for a short while."

And that's the beauty of my annual Indy weekend - my good, good friends and I, feeling normal again, if only for a short while...

An investigative crowd begins to gather once the noise begins...





A nearly complete Tony Kanaan Indycar with ICS logoed base...







Me fondling er, checking Danica for accuracy. When you tweak, you win...









Running the first (of many) shots through the Borg-Warner's internal spiral chilling tube. The chilled shot comes out the opening seen in the base.