It is chaos. A good kind of chaos.

If you’ve witnessed the Little 500, you know what I mean. 33 sprint cars on a quarter-mile track, lined up in 11 rows of three, 500 laps to go.

Sounds impossible.

For nearly 80 years—that’s not a typo—the impossible has taken place in Indiana, and the Little 500 has become one of the most cherished and enduring traditions in all motorsports. Only a tiny handful of racing events have survived the upheaval of time; four generations of officials have overseen the Little 500, four generations of racers have stood on the gas, and four generations of fans have flocked to the event to take it all in.

The starting field on the final parade lap for the 1973 Little 500. (Tom Dick photo from Dave Argabright collection)

I’ll say it right up front: I am a homer for the Little 500. I’m a cheerleader, an evangelist. For most of my life I’ve sang the praises of this race, preaching the gospel at every opportunity. Why? Personal experience, for lack of a better phrase. When I was a young kid I attended this race through a happy series of events—fate?—and it was life-changing.

I was 13 years old, and it was a night that literally changed the course of my life. Sitting on those wooden boards, watching colorful sprint cars rubbing wheels, sparks flying, methanol fumes hanging in the air, ears ringing, under the night sky…that night forever implanted a love and fascination with racing and race cars.

Winner Buzz Gregory in 1969. (Bob Sherman photo from Dave Argabright collection)

That moment, and that race, defined what excitement is all about.

A few years later as a young adult I sat on the top row of the backstretch on Saturday night, waiting for the race to begin. I would turn and look at the cars going up and down 29^th Street outside the track, wondering: Don’t those people realize that the greatest race in the world is about to start? Don’t they know what’s about to happen, and they’re going to miss it? What could possibly be more important, more urgent, than being here to watch this race?

When you’re an evangelist, you tend to take things personally. You want people to believe what you believe. It would irritate me to hear someone refer to the Little 500 as “a circus” or “not a real race.” Cut me to the quick. Luckily, those viewpoints have been few.

What I’ve seen happen, time and time again, is that non-believers are converted. All it takes is for them to witness the race. Most are overwhelmed with excitement and enthusiasm. Two hours of non-stop fun and action and thrills tends to do that. Non-stop means exactly that; there is as much drama during the caution periods as when the cars are racing. Two pit stops are required, and sprint cars are not built for pit stops.

Display ad for the 1956 Little 500.

That’s the beauty of the Little 500, and what makes it impossible. It is a zany, silly idea so crazy that it’s endured through 76 years.

Make no mistake, though, this is hard racing. Wheel-to-wheel, intense, hardcore competition. What’s the most boring condition in racing? Follow the leader. What’s the opposite of follow the leader? Cars passing each other. There is constant passing at the Little 500, so much so that you can’t look away. Cars are inches apart at speed, with two distinct grooves, all night long. Fast cars, kinda-fast cars, and not-fast cars. Throw them all together on a tight high-banked quarter-mile and you’ve got the perfect recipe for excitement.

There I go again. Preach on!

As time goes on I don’t tend to preach as much as I used to. Mainly because I don’t have to; the Little 500 is stronger than ever. The race has seen plenty of ebb and flow through the years, lots of ups and downs. Recent years are most definitely up, with plenty of race cars and full grandstands.

Everything needs a little luck to keep going. The lucky break for the Little 500—and for the people who love it—is that the people in charge haven’t screwed it up. That’s what people do, you know. Humans are constantly tinkering, constantly changing, constantly “improving” because that’s what we do. Lots of racing events have been “improved” so much that they aren’t here anymore.

Amazingly enough, Anderson Speedway has had just three ownership teams through 77 years. Joe Helpling built the track (called Sun Valley Speedway under his tenure) in 1948; Trackside Associates, a group of local owners led by John Hellis and Rex Robbins, steered the ship from 1976 to 1997; current owner Rick Dawson has been in charge ever since. All have been committed to keeping the winning recipe in place: 33 cars, 11 rows of three, 500 laps to go, on Memorial Day weekend.

We’re grateful for that.

If you can make your way to Anderson Speedway on Saturday night, May 24, you’ll enjoy yourself. If you can’t make it in person, DIRTVision will stream the 77^th annual Unified Group Services Little 500 presented by UAW beginning at 7:30 p.m. Eastern. It really is a treat.

That’s the preacher talking, anyway.

Once a year, for 77 years: chaos. Good chaos.

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To learn more about MyRacePass: https://www.myracepass.com/

More of Dave's "The Story" blogs: https://daveargabright.com/the-story-blog/

https://daveargabright.com/the-story-blog/chance-of-a-lifetime/

https://daveargabright.com/the-story-blog/the-story-of-luke-warmwater/

https://daveargabright.com/the-story-blog/set-er-up-to-run-second/

Check out Dave Argabright's racing books: https://daveargabright.com/