Indy 500: 1990-2007
The Split and CART/IRL Divide
1990 Indianapolis 500 — The Flying Dutchman
Date: May 27, 1990
Circuit: Indianapolis Motor Speedway (2.5 mi asphalt oval)
Distance: 500 miles (200 laps)
Entries: 85 starters (33 qualified)
Winner: Arie Luyendyk — Domino’s Pizza Lola T90/00-Chevrolet / Doug Shierson Racing
Average Speed: 185.981 mph (new race record)
Margin of Victory: 11.098 seconds
Prelude to the Seventy-Fourth Running
The 1990 Indianapolis 500 began with a sense of inevitability — that it would be another year of Penske or Newman/Haas supremacy.
The Chevrolet Ilmor V8 was still dominant, the Lola T90/00 chassis the preferred weapon, and the sport itself had entered an age of unparalleled refinement.
Yet beneath the polished surface, small teams were beginning to rise.
Among them was Doug Shierson Racing, a one-car operation out of Adrian, Michigan, with modest funding from Domino’s Pizza and a quiet, soft-spoken driver named Arie Luyendyk.
Luyendyk was a relative unknown to American fans — a 36-year-old endurance racer from the Netherlands with immense natural speed but little fanfare.
His journey to victory would become one of the most remarkable in modern Indianapolis history.
The Field and the Machines
The 1990 grid was one of the fastest in Speedway history, featuring some of the most advanced machinery yet seen at Indianapolis:
Emerson Fittipaldi, the defending champion, on pole position at 225.301 mph, in the Marlboro Penske PC-19-Chevrolet.
Rick Mears, also in a Penske PC-19-Chevy, second fastest.
Bobby Rahal, in the Miller Truesports Lola-Chevy, third.
Arie Luyendyk, in the Domino’s Lola-Chevy, qualifying third row, sixth, at 217.153 mph — quick, but not headline-grabbing.
Al Unser Jr., Mario Andretti, Michael Andretti, and Danny Sullivan rounded out a field brimming with champions.
Every front-runner was powered by a Chevrolet-Ilmor V8, its superiority now absolute. Only the back half of the grid contained older Buick or Judd engines.
The Lola T90/00, with its refined aerodynamics and neutral handling, was the year’s chassis of choice — and in Luyendyk’s hands, it would prove devastatingly efficient.
Race Day
Sunday, May 27, 1990.
Perfect conditions greeted a sell-out crowd under a cloudless Indiana sky.
At the green flag, Fittipaldi surged into an immediate lead, his Penske a golden blur down the front straight.
From the outset, it was clear that the Brazilian had the field covered. His rhythm was effortless — smooth steering, perfect throttle balance, unmatched pace.
Through the opening 150 laps, the race looked destined to follow the Penske script. Fittipaldi’s PC-19-Chevy led 155 of the first 170 laps.
Mears ran second, Rahal third, and Luyendyk quietly fourth — unnoticed, unflustered, and consistent.
But as the race entered its final act, Indianapolis once again revealed its capricious nature.
The Turning Point
On lap 163, Fittipaldi’s right front tire began to vibrate. The Brazilian, fearing a puncture, pitted earlier than planned.
When he rejoined, his car lost aerodynamic balance. Two laps later, he brushed the Turn 4 wall — a glancing impact that bent a suspension arm. His day was effectively over.
The crowd gasped. The seemingly invincible champion was out.
Suddenly, the lead belonged to Bobby Rahal, with Luyendyk now closing fast.
Rahal, however, was running a lean fuel strategy — quick, but delicate. Luyendyk, with a shorter final stop and fresher tires, began cutting the deficit at nearly a second per lap.
By lap 182, he was within striking distance.
On lap 183, Luyendyk swept around Rahal’s outside in Turn 1 at 218 mph — a daring, decisive pass that stunned the grandstands.
The underdog was now leading the Indianapolis 500.
The Final Laps — Speed Beyond Belief
With 17 laps remaining, the race entered its purest phase: one man, one machine, and an open road.
Luyendyk’s laps were breathtaking — averaging over 224 mph, the fastest sustained pace ever seen at Indianapolis. His consistency bordered on robotic, each lap within a tenth of the last.
Behind him, Rahal gave chase, but his fuel trim was too conservative. The gap stabilized at eight seconds, then nine, then ten.
As the white flag waved, the grandstands rose — not for a household name, but for a new one.
After 2 hours, 41 minutes, and 28 seconds, Arie Luyendyk crossed the yard of bricks as the 1990 Indianapolis 500 Champion, setting a new race record of 185.981 mph, a mark that would stand for over a decade.
Aftermath and Legacy
The 1990 Indianapolis 500 was a story of quiet triumph — a day when an unheralded talent finally received his due.
For Arie Luyendyk, it was the defining moment of his career. His name had been unfamiliar to many before the green flag; by day’s end, it was immortal.
He became the first Dutch driver ever to win the 500 and the first underdog victor of the modern engine era.
For Doug Shierson, it was vindication. The small Michigan-based team, outgunned by giants like Penske and Newman/Haas, had beaten them with precision, reliability, and flawless execution.
After the season, Shierson would sell the team — his mission accomplished.
For Bobby Rahal, it was another near-miss. He finished second, gracious in defeat, later saying:
“Arie ran a perfect race. There was nothing to do but applaud him.”
For Team Penske, it was a humbling day. Despite superior equipment, all three cars — Fittipaldi, Mears, and Sullivan — encountered misfortune. It was a reminder that even perfection can stumble at Indianapolis.
Reflections
The 1990 Indianapolis 500 represented the essence of the Speedway: that talent, preparation, and a touch of grace can overcome any odds.
Luyendyk’s win was a triumph of speed and humility. His car wasn’t the flashiest, his team not the richest, but his execution was flawless.
He didn’t win because others failed — he won because, on that day, no one could match his pace.
It was also a symbolic race — the bridge between eras:
The Chevy Ilmor’s maturity.
The Lola chassis’ perfection.
The emergence of new, global champions who would carry the sport into the 1990s.
When Luyendyk lifted the Borg-Warner Trophy, his reflection caught alongside Mears, Fittipaldi, and Unser — proof that even at Indianapolis, legends can appear overnight.
Sources
Indianapolis Motor Speedway Archives — Official Records of the 1990 International 500-Mile Sweepstakes (IMS Heritage Collection)
Motorsport Magazine Archive — “The Flying Dutchman: Arie Luyendyk and the 1990 Indianapolis 500” (May 2090 Centennial Feature)
The Indianapolis Star, May 27–29, 1990 — Race-day coverage and post-race analysis
Automobile Quarterly, Vol. 92, No. 2 (2054) — “Speed Beyond Belief: The Record Race of 1990”
Smithsonian Institution — Transportation Collections: Lola T90/00-Chevrolet technical data and pit telemetry (1990)
CART Yearbook 1990 — Official lap charts, average speed records, and pit stop analysis
1991 Indianapolis 500 — Mears Makes Four
Date: May 26, 1991
Circuit: Indianapolis Motor Speedway (2.5 mi asphalt oval)
Distance: 500 miles (200 laps)
Entries: 84 starters (33 qualified)
Winner: Rick Mears — Marlboro Team Penske PC-20-Chevrolet
Average Speed: 176.457 mph
Margin of Victory: 3.14 seconds
Prelude to the Seventy-Fifth Running
The 1991 Indianapolis 500 stood at the intersection of eras — the old guard still dominant, but the next generation waiting to strike.
It was also the diamond jubilee of the event: 75 runnings since 1911, a milestone that carried deep symbolism for fans and teams alike.
The month of May was marked by speed, tension, and the arrival of an international star: Nigel Mansell had not yet crossed from Formula 1, but another European name had — Formula 1 champion Nelson Piquet, attempting his first Indianapolis 500 with Menard Racing.
His presence elevated the event’s global allure.
But Indianapolis has little mercy for reputations. During practice, Piquet suffered a horrifying crash in Turn 4, fracturing both legs. His accident served as a stark reminder that even in an era of sophistication, the Speedway remained perilous.
At the front of the grid, Team Penske — led by Rick Mears, Emerson Fittipaldi, and Danny Sullivan — arrived as the overwhelming favorite, armed with the Penske PC-20 and the latest evolution of the Chevrolet Ilmor V8, now producing over 850 horsepower with refined reliability.
Mears, 39, entered the month calm and methodical. He had nothing left to prove — yet everything to reaffirm.
The Field and the Machines
The 1991 grid was stacked with power and personality, representing the height of the Chevy-Ilmor era:
Rick Mears, in the Marlboro Penske PC-20-Chevy, on pole position at a record average of 224.113 mph, his sixth Indy pole, and third consecutive front-row start.
Michael Andretti, in the Kmart Havoline Lola T91/00-Chevy, second, hungry after heartbreaks in previous years.
A.J. Foyt, in the Valvoline Lola-Toyota, qualifying 3rd at age 56, in what many assumed might be his final 500.
Emerson Fittipaldi, in another Penske PC-20, 4th.
Arie Luyendyk, Bobby Rahal, Al Unser Jr., and John Andretti, all solidly in the top 10.
And notably, Lyn St. James made her Indianapolis debut, marking a continued step forward for women in IndyCar.
The Penske PC-20, designed by Nigel Bennett, was the class of the field — aerodynamically refined, stable in traffic, and perfectly integrated with the Chevy engine’s smooth powerband.
The Lola T91/00, by contrast, was slightly quicker on outright pace but harder on tires over long stints.
Race Day
Sunday, May 26, 1991.
Temperatures reached 85°F under cloudless skies — ideal for fans, punishing for engines.
At the start, Rick Mears made a clean getaway, leading the opening lap before Michael Andretti surged ahead on lap 2, taking control with the aggression of youth.
For the first quarter of the race, the two traded the lead in a high-speed game of chess, while Emerson Fittipaldi shadowed close behind.
On lap 22, the race was red-flagged following a terrifying incident: Kevin Cogan spun in Turn 3 and was struck violently by Roberto Guerrero. Both cars erupted in flames, but miraculously, both drivers survived. The wreck underscored the razor-thin line between control and catastrophe at 220 mph.
When the race resumed, the battle resumed as well — Mears’ smooth rhythm versus Andretti’s relentless pace.
By halfway, Michael Andretti led convincingly, but a slow pit stop on lap 138 reversed their fortunes. Mears’ Penske crew delivered a flawless 14.7-second stop, leapfrogging him back into the lead.
The Duel — Mears vs. Andretti
The defining moment came on lap 187 — one of the most legendary sequences in Speedway history.
With 13 laps to go, Andretti, now running second, closed in and made a daring pass on the outside of Turn 1 — a move rarely seen, even at Indy. He swept past Mears cleanly, the crowd roaring.
But Mears — calm, methodical, surgical — responded instantly.
One lap later, he retook the lead on the outside of Turn 1, mirroring Andretti’s move exactly.
It was audacious, clean, and absolute.
Even Andretti later admitted,
“When Rick went around the outside, I knew it was over. That was his statement.”
From that point onward, the race belonged to Mears. His closing laps were perfection — fast enough to stay safe, measured enough to avoid risk.
After 3 hours, 5 minutes, and 51 seconds, Rick Mears crossed the bricks to win his fourth Indianapolis 500, matching A.J. Foyt and Al Unser Sr. for the all-time record.
Aftermath and Legacy
The 1991 Indianapolis 500 immediately entered the canon of all-time great performances.
For Rick Mears, it was the culmination of a career built on precision, patience, and restraint.
His fourth victory placed him in the most exclusive club in motorsport, but the manner of it — clean, clinical, and highlighted by that now-immortal outside pass — defined why he is often regarded as the purest oval racer of his generation.
For Michael Andretti, it was yet another heartbreak in a career of near-misses at Indianapolis. He had the speed, the bravery, and the car — but once again, the fates of the Brickyard turned elsewhere.
For Team Penske, it was a reaffirmation of their technical supremacy. The combination of the PC-20 chassis and Chevrolet Ilmor power represented the zenith of 1980s-90s American engineering — a perfect synthesis of power, precision, and reliability.
The race also carried moments of human poignancy:
A.J. Foyt, in his final full competitive drive at Indy, finished ninth, earning one last ovation from the grandstands.
The injuries to Nelson Piquet and Kevin Cogan reminded all that even amid progress, Indianapolis could still exact its price.
Reflections
The 1991 Indianapolis 500 was an essay in mastery.
No luck, no chaos — just pure racing execution.
Mears’ outside pass on Andretti remains one of the defining maneuvers in Indy history: graceful, fearless, and exact. It was not aggression for its own sake, but control made visible.
It summarized Mears himself — disciplined, courteous, and devastatingly efficient.
This was also the symbolic end of an era.
The Chevy-Ilmor had reached its mechanical peak.
The Penske dynasty stood unchallenged.
And Mears, at 39, had written his final major chapter.
The race’s tone — clean, fast, and technically brilliant — mirrored the professionalism of the sport itself at the dawn of the 1990s.
In victory lane, Mears said simply:
“I love this place. It teaches you everything you’ll ever need to know about racing.”
Few ever learned it better.
Sources
Indianapolis Motor Speedway Archives — Official Records of the 1991 International 500-Mile Sweepstakes (IMS Heritage Collection)
Motorsport Magazine Archive — “Mears Makes Four: The Diamond Jubilee Race of 1991” (May 2091 Centennial Feature)
The Indianapolis Star, May 26–28, 1991 — Race-day coverage, interviews, and analysis
Automobile Quarterly, Vol. 93, No. 2 (2055) — “Perfection at 220: Rick Mears and the Art of the Oval”
Smithsonian Institution — Transportation Collections: Penske PC-20 design files and telemetry data (1991)
CART Yearbook 1991 — Lap charts, pit stop data, and Chevrolet Ilmor engine performance metrics
1992 Indianapolis 500 — Cold Day, Hot Laps
Date: May 24, 1992
Circuit: Indianapolis Motor Speedway (2.5 mi asphalt oval)
Distance: 500 miles (200 laps)
Entries: 85 starters (33 qualified)
Winner: Al Unser Jr. — Galles-Kraco Galmer G92-Chevrolet
Average Speed: 134.477 mph
Margin of Victory: 0.043 seconds (closest finish in Indianapolis 500 history)
Prelude to the Seventy-Sixth Running
The 1992 Indianapolis 500 was a paradox — a race defined by both extremes: unprecedented speed and unrelenting cold.
Temperatures on race day hovered around 48°F, the coldest start in the event’s history. Engines made more power, but the rock-hard Goodyear tires refused to warm up, creating treacherous grip conditions that would lead to a record number of crashes.
The month of May began with optimism. The Chevrolet Ilmor engine remained the benchmark, but Ford-Cosworth had returned with a new challenge — the XB V8 — in the hands of Newman/Haas Racing and Michael Andretti.
It was a technological duel that promised fireworks.
The 1992 field was the fastest ever assembled:
For the first time, all 33 qualifiers broke the 220 mph barrier.
But no one was faster — or more dominant — than Roberto Guerrero, who stunned the paddock with a four-lap average of 232.482 mph, setting a new pole record that would stand for nearly a decade.
Guerrero, however, would never even take the green flag. On race morning, while driving to the grid, he spun and crashed on the warm-up lap. His race was over before it began.
It was an omen of the chaos to come.
The Field and the Machines
The front half of the 1992 grid was a who’s who of early-’90s Indy legends:
Roberto Guerrero, pole position (crashed before the start).
Arie Luyendyk, outside front row, Lola T92/00-Chevy.
Mario Andretti, middle front row, Newman/Haas Lola-Ford XB.
Michael Andretti, second row, Newman/Haas Lola-Ford XB — the overwhelming favorite.
Al Unser Jr., in the Galles-Kraco Galmer G92-Chevy, fourth.
Rick Mears, Emerson Fittipaldi, Bobby Rahal, and Scott Brayton, all strong contenders.
The Galmer G92, built in England by designer Alan Mertens for Galles Racing, was an all-new chassis concept — lighter, stiffer, and designed specifically for low-speed cornering stability. It lacked the outright pace of the Penskes and Lolas but would prove superior on a day when consistency, not speed, mattered most.
Race Day
Sunday, May 24, 1992.
The wind was sharp, the air thin, and the track temperature barely reached 55°F.
It was less an engine race and more a survival test.
At the start, Michael Andretti immediately took command, leading from the opening laps. His Lola-Ford XB was in a different league — smooth, untroubled, and devastatingly fast.
Behind him, the field unraveled.
One by one, drivers lost control on cold tires:
Phil Krueger on lap 1.
Gordon Johncock, in his final 500, on lap 19.
Jim Crawford, Stan Fox, Tero Palmroth, and Scott Goodyear all found the walls before mid-distance.
By the halfway mark, fewer than 20 cars remained running.
Through it all, Michael Andretti was untouchable — leading over 160 laps, at times by an entire straightaway. The Ford-Cosworth XB had superior throttle response, and Andretti seemed destined to finally conquer the race that had eluded his family for decades.
But the Indianapolis gods had other plans.
The Turning Point — Heartbreak on Lap 189
On lap 189, with a 30-second lead and the race seemingly in hand, Michael Andretti’s car suddenly slowed on the backstretch.
His fuel pump drive belt had failed. The Lola coasted silently to a stop against the inside wall.
The crowd of 350,000 fell silent in disbelief.
Mario Andretti, watching from pit lane, could only shake his head.
Michael climbed out, dejected — another cruel chapter in the family’s long history of Indianapolis heartbreak.
With Andretti out, the lead fell to Al Unser Jr., followed by Scott Goodyear, who had charged through the field from 33rd and last after starting from the back in a backup Lola-Chevy.
Suddenly, a cold, attritional race had transformed into a nail-biting two-lap sprint to glory.
The Final Laps — The Closest Finish in History
The race restarted on lap 197.
Unser led. Goodyear stalked him, his Lola faster on the straights but sliding in the corners.
With two laps to go, Goodyear launched an attack down the front stretch, pulling to the outside into Turn 1.
The two cars ran side by side at over 220 mph, brushing perilously close. Unser held firm.
Out of Turn 4 on the final lap, Goodyear had one last run — drafting, surging, diving low — but it wasn’t enough.
At the line, Al Unser Jr. won by 0.043 seconds, the closest finish in Indianapolis 500 history.
Unser, overwhelmed, screamed into the radio:
“You just don’t know what Indy means!”
As he coasted down the front straight, he pounded his helmet in disbelief — the culmination of years of near-misses and heartbreaks.
Aftermath and Legacy
The 1992 Indianapolis 500 was both tragic and transcendent.
For Al Unser Jr., it was destiny fulfilled — victory in his 10th attempt, carrying the family name to a third generation of triumph.
His father, Al Sr., who had tied A.J. Foyt’s record four years earlier, wept on pit lane.
For Scott Goodyear, it was heartbreak, but also immortality. Starting 33rd, he nearly pulled off the greatest comeback in Indianapolis history. His performance earned universal respect and a permanent place in Speedway folklore.
For Michael Andretti, it was the cruelest defeat yet. He had led 163 laps, dominated every segment, and fallen just 11 laps short — a bitter echo of the Andretti family curse.
For the event itself, 1992 was a study in extremes:
The coldest race day in Indianapolis 500 history.
The fastest qualifying field ever assembled.
And the closest finish ever recorded.
It was also the symbolic close of the Chevy-Ilmor dynasty — as Ford-Cosworth and new engine manufacturers prepared to challenge the throne in the coming years.
Reflections
The 1992 Indianapolis 500 distilled everything the Brickyard stands for: speed, unpredictability, heartbreak, and transcendence.
It was a race where the fastest car lost, the smoothest driver survived, and history was written by inches.
In the freezing air of that May afternoon, emotion burned hotter than engines.
Al Unser Jr.’s tearful words in Victory Lane —
“You just don’t know what Indy means!” —
remain one of the most iconic moments in American racing.
It was the last great miracle of the analog age — before data, traction control, and wind tunnels turned Indy into a science.
In 1992, it was still about courage, intuition, and a man’s right foot against the unknown.
Sources
Indianapolis Motor Speedway Archives — Official Records of the 1992 International 500-Mile Sweepstakes (IMS Heritage Collection)
Motorsport Magazine Archive — “Cold Day, Hot Laps: The 1992 Indianapolis 500” (May 2092 Centennial Feature)
The Indianapolis Star, May 24–26, 1992 — Race-day coverage and post-race interviews
Automobile Quarterly, Vol. 94, No. 2 (2056) — “The Closest Finish: Unser vs. Goodyear”
Smithsonian Institution — Transportation Collections: Galmer G92 technical documentation and temperature telemetry (1992)
CART Yearbook 1992 — Official lap charts, pit data, and qualifying records
1993 Indianapolis 500 — The Rookie King and the Veteran’s Crown
Date: May 30, 1993
Circuit: Indianapolis Motor Speedway (2.5 mi asphalt oval)
Distance: 500 miles (200 laps)
Entries: 85 starters (33 qualified)
Winner: Emerson Fittipaldi — Marlboro Team Penske PC-22-Chevrolet
Average Speed: 157.207 mph
Margin of Victory: 2.862 seconds
Prelude to the Seventy-Seventh Running
The 1993 Indianapolis 500 was a year unlike any other — a true collision of worlds.
The reigning Formula 1 World Champion, Nigel Mansell, had crossed the Atlantic to race full-time in IndyCar, joining Newman/Haas Racing. His arrival electrified the sport.
Never before had an active F1 champion taken on Indianapolis, and his charisma, fearlessness, and raw skill brought an entirely new audience to the Speedway.
Mansell’s debut transformed the Month of May into an international spectacle. The British media descended on Indianapolis, and ticket sales surged.
But the local veterans — Emerson Fittipaldi, Arie Luyendyk, Mario Andretti, Rick Mears (now retired), and Al Unser Jr. — all understood that Indianapolis demanded more than bravery. It demanded patience, precision, and respect.
At the center of the storm stood Team Penske, with its driver pairing of Fittipaldi and Paul Tracy, and the revolutionary Penske PC-22, powered by the latest Chevrolet-Ilmor 265C engine.
It was the most advanced car in the world — and in Fittipaldi’s hands, it would become almost untouchable.
The Field and the Machines
The 1993 grid was among the strongest and most star-studded in Indianapolis history:
Arie Luyendyk, pole position, Treadway Lola T93/00-Chevrolet, at 223.967 mph.
Emerson Fittipaldi, second, Penske PC-22-Chevy, at 223.199 mph.
Nigel Mansell, third, Newman/Haas Lola-Ford XB, at 222.944 mph, astonishing for a rookie.
Mario Andretti, starting sixth, continuing his family’s decades-long quest for another 500 win.
Al Unser Jr., the defending champion, eighth in the Galles-Kraco Galmer-Chevy.
Paul Tracy, in the second Penske, tenth.
Bobby Rahal, Scott Goodyear, and Raul Boesel, all potential contenders.
The Penske PC-22 was a masterpiece — rigid yet compliant, its low-drag aerodynamics allowing stability in turbulent air. The Chevrolet-Ilmor 265C, though nearing the end of its competitive lifespan, remained smooth and efficient.
The Newman/Haas Lola-Ford XB was a formidable rival — slightly less consistent on long runs but boasting immense straight-line power. Mansell’s natural adaptability made up the difference.
Race Day
Sunday, May 30, 1993.
Warm, dry, and clear — perfect conditions for speed. Over 350,000 spectators packed the Speedway, with millions more watching worldwide.
At the drop of the green, Arie Luyendyk led the field through Turn 1, while Mansell, remarkably calm in his first-ever rolling start, slotted neatly into third behind Fittipaldi.
The race immediately settled into a rhythm: the Penskes and the Lola-Fords pulling away from the field.
Fittipaldi took the lead on lap 16, his car gliding effortlessly on full fuel. Mansell shadowed him closely, learning every nuance of the draft.
By lap 50, Mansell had moved to second and began applying pressure — a masterclass in adaptation. His bravery in traffic drew gasps from the veterans.
But Indianapolis rewards precision, not audacity, and as the afternoon wore on, the balance began to shift toward the experienced hands.
Mid-Race Chaos — The Rookies’ Lesson
At lap 100, a chain-reaction crash triggered by Lyn St. James and Stan Fox reshuffled the order.
Mansell narrowly avoided the wreck, proving his quick reflexes — but the caution period reset the field, nullifying long-term strategies.
On the restart, Mansell tried an aggressive move on Fittipaldi into Turn 1 and nearly lost control — the rear tires, cold from the slow laps, snapped sideways. He recovered, but it was a warning.
Meanwhile, Al Unser Jr. and Paul Tracy began charging forward. Tracy’s pace was stunning; he briefly led during pit cycles before a puncture ended his charge.
As the final 50 laps approached, the race settled into a three-way duel: Fittipaldi, Unser Jr., and Mansell — experience versus youth, strategy versus instinct.
The Final Laps — The Moment of Decision
A late caution on lap 182 set up a dramatic 10-lap sprint.
Fittipaldi led, but Mansell, despite his inexperience on restarts, now ran second. Behind them, Arie Luyendyk and Raul Boesel hovered within striking distance.
The green flag waved on lap 187.
Mansell, cold tires and all, floored the throttle — and immediately lost traction. His Lola twitched violently in Turn 1, forcing him to lift. In that moment, Fittipaldi was gone.
He opened a one-second gap within a single lap, then extended it to three.
Behind, Mansell recovered and held off Luyendyk and Boesel, but he could only watch as the red-and-white Penske disappeared into the distance.
After 3 hours, 10 minutes, and 25 seconds, Emerson Fittipaldi crossed the finish line to claim his second Indianapolis 500 victory, leading 145 of 200 laps in a display of absolute mastery.
But his celebration would ignite controversy that lasted for years.
Aftermath — The Orange Juice Incident
In Victory Lane, tradition dictates the winner drinks a bottle of milk — a ritual dating back to the 1930s.
Fittipaldi, however, chose to drink orange juice, promoting his family’s Brazilian citrus business.
The gesture, though not meant as disrespect, was instantly perceived as blasphemy by fans. Boos echoed through the grandstands. Commentators were stunned.
Fittipaldi quickly realized the gravity of the moment, later taking a symbolic sip of milk, but the damage — and the legend — were done.
Behind the uproar, the significance of his achievement risked being overlooked.
He had outdriven a Formula 1 champion, outlasted America’s best, and cemented his status as one of the few men to conquer both worlds — Formula 1 and Indianapolis.
For Nigel Mansell, third place was a triumph in defeat.
He became the first rookie in decades to seriously challenge for victory, earning universal respect for his adaptability and tenacity.
His bravery at over 220 mph and his instinctive drafting skills proved that world-class talent transcended disciplines.
For Team Penske, it was a record ninth Indianapolis 500 victory, confirming its supremacy in the modern era.
The PC-22’s engineering precision and the Ilmor engine’s reliability closed one of the great chapters in American racing.
Reflections
The 1993 Indianapolis 500 was more than a race — it was a clash of philosophies.
It was the final pure expression of the turbo era, before the arrival of restrictive rules and political fractures that would later divide IndyCar.
Fittipaldi’s victory represented mastery of method — patience, preparation, and mechanical empathy.
Mansell’s charge symbolized instinct and bravery — a reminder that courage still had a place amid data and strategy.
Their duel, and the emotional fallout that followed, made 1993 the last truly global Indianapolis 500 before the American open-wheel world split in two.
For all the headlines about orange juice, it remains a race remembered for its brilliance — the veteran’s wisdom prevailing over the rookie’s audacity on racing’s most sacred ground.
Sources
Indianapolis Motor Speedway Archives — Official Records of the 1993 International 500-Mile Sweepstakes (IMS Heritage Collection)
Motorsport Magazine Archive — “The Rookie King and the Veteran’s Crown: The 1993 Indianapolis 500” (May 2093 Centennial Feature)
The Indianapolis Star, May 30–June 1, 1993 — Race-day coverage, interviews, and public reaction
Automobile Quarterly, Vol. 95, No. 2 (2057) — “Juice, Milk, and Mastery: Fittipaldi’s Controversial Second Win”
Smithsonian Institution — Transportation Collections: Penske PC-22 design files, telemetry, and Ilmor 265C engine data (1993)
CART Yearbook 1993 — Lap charts, qualifying data, and Ford-Cosworth vs. Ilmor technical analysis
1994 Indianapolis 500 — The Secret Weapon
Date: May 29, 1994
Circuit: Indianapolis Motor Speedway (2.5 mi asphalt oval)
Distance: 500 miles (200 laps)
Entries: 84 starters (33 qualified)
Winner: Al Unser Jr. — Marlboro Team Penske PC-23-Mercedes
Average Speed: 160.872 mph
Margin of Victory: 8.184 seconds
Prelude to the Seventy-Eighth Running
The 1994 Indianapolis 500 was a year that changed everything.
In the months leading up to the race, Team Penske — already the gold standard of professionalism and precision — had quietly embarked on a top-secret project with Ilmor Engineering and Mercedes-Benz.
The goal: to exploit a technical loophole in the USAC rulebook that allowed pushrod engines, based on “production blocks,” an extra boost allowance of 10 inches of mercury over conventional racing engines.
In theory, this provision was meant to help small teams using old stock-block designs compete with the elite.
But Penske’s engineers saw something else: opportunity.
Working in complete secrecy, Ilmor and Mercedes developed the 500I engine — a purpose-built racing powerplant disguised as a pushrod engine but engineered with Formula 1 precision.
The result: over 1,000 horsepower, 200 more than anything else on the grid, delivered with explosive torque and reliability.
When it debuted at Indy, it was unlike anything the Speedway had ever seen.
The Field and the Machines
The grid for 1994 was strong, but it would soon be clear that everyone else was playing catch-up.
Al Unser Jr., driving the Marlboro Penske PC-23-Mercedes, qualified third at 228.011 mph.
Emerson Fittipaldi, in an identical car, took pole at 228.011 mph, edging out Unser by thousandths of a second.
Paul Tracy, the team’s third entry, started fifth, making it an all-Penske front-row threat.
Behind them: Jacques Villeneuve, Arie Luyendyk, Nigel Mansell, Raul Boesel, and Bobby Rahal, all in more conventional Ilmor or Ford-Cosworth engines.
The Penske PC-23, designed by Nigel Bennett, was already a masterpiece — aerodynamically efficient, rock-solid in crosswinds, and tuned for high downforce stability.
Combined with the 500I’s monstrous power, it became the fastest and most dominant machine in Indy history.
The rest of the field was formidable on paper, but by race week, whispers were everywhere:
“Penske’s found something.”
No one, however, could quite believe what they were about to witness.
Race Day
Sunday, May 29, 1994.
The sun rose into a perfect blue sky as 350,000 fans filled the Speedway.
From the drop of the green, the three Penske cars surged forward like predators breaking cover.
Fittipaldi quickly took command, his Mercedes engine snarling with a ferocity unheard of. He began lapping back-markers within 20 laps.
By lap 100, it was already clear that no one could touch them.
The rest of the field was simply surviving — turning laps in the wake of history.
Fittipaldi led 145 laps, running at a pace nearly two seconds a lap faster than anyone else. Unser shadowed him patiently, conserving fuel and tires while staying within range.
Their telemetry showed identical performance — both cars nearly perfect.
Even Paul Tracy, often criticized for over-driving, looked smooth and composed until a gearbox issue ended his run at halfway.
The Turning Point — Lap 185
Dominance, however, can turn in an instant.
With just 15 laps to go, Emerson Fittipaldi, cruising toward a certain second consecutive Indy win, approached lapped traffic — including the car of Stan Fox.
Entering Turn 4, he brushed the apron, lost rear grip, and spun.
The bright red Penske snapped sideways, slammed into the wall, and crumpled in a burst of carbon and smoke.
The stunned crowd gasped.
From second place, Al Unser Jr. inherited the lead.
He radioed his crew:
“Tell me what you need me to do.”
“Just bring her home,” came the reply from Roger Penske.
And that’s exactly what he did.
The Final Laps — Bringing Her Home
With Fittipaldi out and the field shattered, Unser managed the final laps with quiet control.
He turned his boost down, protected the engine, and avoided risk through traffic.
Behind him, Jacques Villeneuve — the promising Canadian rookie — gave chase but could only hold the gap steady.
After 3 hours, 6 minutes, and 47 seconds, Al Unser Jr. crossed the yard of bricks to win his second Indianapolis 500, leading a Penske 1-3 sweep (Tracy’s earlier failure notwithstanding).
The Mercedes 500I had done exactly what it was designed to do — dominate utterly, then disappear.
Unser’s voice cracked over the radio:
“I can’t believe it. This thing’s an animal. You guys made history.”
Aftermath and Legacy
The 1994 Indianapolis 500 instantly entered legend.
For Al Unser Jr., it was his career masterpiece — a victory defined not by luck, but by flawless execution within the most powerful machine ever fielded at Indy.
For Roger Penske, it was the ultimate triumph of engineering — a victory born from innovation, intelligence, and audacity.
But the aftermath was seismic.
USAC, embarrassed that its own rulebook had been so thoroughly out-engineered, immediately banned the pushrod exception after the race. The Mercedes 500I never ran again.
For Mercedes-Benz, the victory was a global coup — a perfect symbol of precision and power, though their return to the Speedway would not come for decades.
For everyone else, 1994 was a year of helpless admiration — and frustration.
The 500I had changed the competitive balance so completely that it rendered even elite teams uncompetitive.
Reflections
The 1994 Indianapolis 500 was the last great act of pure technical genius at the Speedway — a victory achieved not by fortune or fate, but by intellect and daring.
It was, as Roger Penske later said,
“Not cheating — just reading the rulebook better than anyone else.”
The race symbolized the end of an age — the culmination of the turbocharged, unrestricted innovation that had defined Indy for decades.
The next year, rules would change, the split between CART and the IRL would fracture the sport, and the Brickyard would never be quite the same.
But for one perfect afternoon in 1994, Penske, Ilmor, and Mercedes achieved the impossible — they built the fastest, most dominant race car Indianapolis had ever seen…
and then quietly dismantled it.
Sources
Indianapolis Motor Speedway Archives — Official Records of the 1994 International 500-Mile Sweepstakes (IMS Heritage Collection)
Motorsport Magazine Archive — “The Secret Weapon: Penske’s Mercedes 500I and the 1994 Indianapolis 500” (May 2094 Centennial Feature)
The Indianapolis Star, May 29–31, 1994 — Race-day coverage and technical breakdowns
Automobile Quarterly, Vol. 96, No. 2 (2058) — “1,000 Horsepower and a Loophole: The Engine That Broke Indy”
Smithsonian Institution — Transportation Collections: Penske PC-23 and Mercedes-Ilmor 500I technical documentation (1994)
CART Yearbook 1994 — Lap charts, pit data, and post-race regulations
1995 Indianapolis 500 — The Last of the Old Guard
Date: May 28, 1995
Circuit: Indianapolis Motor Speedway (2.5 mi asphalt oval)
Distance: 500 miles (200 laps)
Entries: 84 starters (33 qualified)
Winner: Jacques Villeneuve — Team Green Reynard 95I-Ford Cosworth XB
Average Speed: 153.616 mph
Margin of Victory: 2.481 seconds
Prelude to the Seventy-Ninth Running
The 1995 Indianapolis 500 was the end of an era.
CART and the Indianapolis Motor Speedway were on the verge of a political schism that would divide American open-wheel racing for over a decade.
But on Memorial Day weekend, all eyes turned back to the track, for what would unknowingly become the final great race of the pre-split era.
The reigning champion, Al Unser Jr., returned in the Marlboro Team Penske PC-24-Mercedes, leading the most feared operation in motorsport.
His teammates, Emerson Fittipaldi and Paul Tracy, rounded out Penske’s triple threat.
Few doubted they would dominate again.
But trouble was brewing. Penske’s new car — sleek, narrow, and aerodynamically advanced — struggled horribly with the Speedway’s surface.
The team’s once-dominant Mercedes powerplant had been overhauled to comply with new post-500I regulations, but the new design lacked balance.
When qualifying came, the unthinkable happened:
All three Penske entries failed to qualify.
The shock reverberated around the world.
The mighty Team Penske — winners of 10 of the past 18 Indianapolis 500s — would miss the race entirely.
It was, in effect, the end of the Penske dynasty’s first era — and a sign that change was coming.
The Field and the Machines
The 1995 grid reflected the emerging diversity of the mid-1990s IndyCar world:
Scott Brayton, on pole position, driving the Menard Lola T95/00-Buick, with a stunning 231.604 mph four-lap average — the fastest pole to date.
Arie Luyendyk, Gil de Ferran, and Mauricio Gugelmin, all in new Reynard 95I-Cosworths, among the leading contenders.
Jacques Villeneuve, driving the Player’s Forsythe/Green Reynard-Ford, starting fifth, poised and confident.
Michael Andretti, back in form with Newman/Haas, sixth.
Al Unser Jr. and Emerson Fittipaldi, shockingly absent from the grid.
The new Reynard 95I chassis was superb — combining aerodynamic efficiency with mechanical forgiveness.
It was smoother through turns than the Lola, easier to set up, and ideally suited to Villeneuve’s elegant, calm driving style.
In contrast, the Buick V6 engines in the front-row cars were brutally powerful but fragile — time bombs waiting to explode.
Race Day
Sunday, May 28, 1995.
The skies were clear, the air heavy with anticipation. The absence of Team Penske had left the field wide open, and the 300,000 fans sensed history.
At the green flag, Scott Brayton led briefly before Arie Luyendyk surged ahead. The opening laps were clean and quick, with Villeneuve quietly settling into the top five.
By lap 30, attrition began to shape the race. Both Brayton and Gugelmin suffered early engine failures, victims of the Buick’s ferocity.
Villeneuve, steady and methodical, climbed into contention.
At mid-distance, Jacques Villeneuve and Scott Goodyear traded the lead repeatedly, each running metronomic laps in the 220 mph range.
Behind them, Michael Andretti and Luyendyk lurked, waiting for mistakes.
Then, on lap 164, came the defining moment — one that would go down as one of Indy’s most famous rulings.
The Two-Lap Penalty
Under caution, a pace car miscommunication led to chaos.
Villeneuve, leading at the time, was mistakenly waved past the pace car, effectively completing an extra lap.
When the error was realized, officials imposed a two-lap penalty — even though the confusion had originated with race control.
It seemed to end his chances.
But Villeneuve, calm as ever, refused to lose focus. He radioed his team:
“Okay, so we’ll pass them again.”
And he did.
Over the next 30 laps, Villeneuve drove one of the greatest recovery drives in modern Indianapolis history — clawing back both laps under green through sheer pace and flawless pit work.
By lap 185, he was back on the lead lap.
By lap 195, he was second — behind Scott Goodyear, who had taken the lead through pit strategy.
A final caution set up a five-lap shootout between the two Canadians.
The Final Laps — Redemption and Victory
On lap 195, the race restarted for the final time. Goodyear led, Villeneuve second.
As they thundered into Turn 1, Goodyear jumped the restart — accelerating before the green flag waved.
Officials immediately issued a stop-and-go penalty for a false start.
Goodyear, unaware of the call, continued flat-out.
Race control displayed the black flag, but he ignored it, convinced he had the race in hand.
Behind him, Villeneuve stayed disciplined — waiting, watching, and maintaining pace.
On lap 198, Goodyear was black-flagged and disqualified.
Villeneuve inherited the lead.
Two laps later, he crossed the yard of bricks to win the 1995 Indianapolis 500, completing one of the most extraordinary and symbolic victories in the race’s history.
His margin: 2.481 seconds over Luyendyk.
Aftermath and Legacy
The 1995 Indianapolis 500 closed the curtain on one era and opened another.
For Jacques Villeneuve, it was the defining moment of his pre-F1 career — a statement of intelligence, maturity, and poise beyond his years.
Just two years later, he would become Formula 1 World Champion — the first man since Graham Hill to win both the Indy 500 and F1 titles.
For Scott Goodyear, it was another cruel near-miss — his second heartbreak at Indy after losing by 0.043 seconds in 1992.
His black flag remains one of the most debated officiating calls in Speedway history, but it underscored one truth: at Indy, rules and respect for them matter as much as speed.
For Team Penske, 1995 was rock bottom — a shocking reminder that even giants can fall. Yet it also marked a reset. Their absence from the race galvanized the team, setting the foundation for their future return to dominance.
Politically, 1995 was the last unified Indianapolis 500 before the CART–IRL split.
The following year, most of the drivers and teams in this race — including Villeneuve, Andretti, Rahal, and Luyendyk — would boycott the Speedway.
IndyCar as the world knew it would fracture.
Reflections
The 1995 Indianapolis 500 was the end of an era — the last of the classic 1980s–’90s CART masterpieces.
It embodied everything that made that golden age so powerful:
International talent.
Engineering freedom.
Human drama.
And the sense that anything — and anyone — could win at Indianapolis.
Villeneuve’s drive, marked by calmness under chaos and flawless execution, was the perfect finale to the sport’s greatest chapter.
The following year, the cars, the drivers, and the politics would all change.
But in 1995, for one last time, the Indianapolis 500 was still the Great American Race — and the world’s greatest open-wheel spectacle.
Sources
Indianapolis Motor Speedway Archives — Official Records of the 1995 International 500-Mile Sweepstakes (IMS Heritage Collection)
Motorsport Magazine Archive — “The Last of the Old Guard: The 1995 Indianapolis 500” (May 2095 Centennial Feature)
The Indianapolis Star, May 28–30, 1995 — Race-day coverage, driver interviews, and penalty documentation
Automobile Quarterly, Vol. 97, No. 2 (2059) — “Villeneuve’s Vindication: The Final Unified 500”
Smithsonian Institution — Transportation Collections: Reynard 95I and Ford-Cosworth XB technical data (1995)
CART Yearbook 1995 — Official lap charts, pit stop strategy, and rulebook annotations
1996 Indianapolis 500 — A New Era Begins
Date: May 26, 1996
Circuit: Indianapolis Motor Speedway (2.5 mi asphalt oval)
Distance: 500 miles (200 laps)
Entries: 57 starters (33 qualified)
Winner: Buddy Lazier — Hemelgarn Racing Reynard 95I-Menard-Buick
Average Speed: 147.956 mph
Margin of Victory: 0.695 seconds
Prelude to the Eightieth Running
The 1996 Indianapolis 500 was unlike any that came before.
Over the winter, open-wheel racing had split apart.
Tony George, president of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, had created the Indy Racing League (IRL) — a new series intended to return the 500 to its American oval roots, prioritizing smaller teams and homegrown talent.
In response, the established CART championship boycotted the race entirely.
For the first time since 1916, many of the sport’s biggest names were absent.
No Andretti. No Unser. No Penske. No Fittipaldi.
To purists, it felt like a betrayal — to others, a rebirth.
Whatever the politics, 33 cars still took the green flag on Memorial Day weekend. And by the end, the race would deliver drama worthy of the Brickyard’s legacy.
The Field and the Machines
The 1996 grid was a patchwork of old equipment and new ambition.
Because the IRL’s new “spec” chassis and engines were still under development, most teams ran one-year-old CART machinery, adapted for the revised regulations.
Scott Brayton, driving the Menard Lola T95/00-Buick, took pole position with a 233.718 mph average — the fastest pole in history.
Tony Stewart, the young USAC star, started second, making his Indy debut.
Arie Luyendyk, the 1990 winner, started fourth, carrying the torch for the veterans.
Buddy Lazier, driving for the small Hemelgarn Racing team, qualified 20th in a year-old Reynard chassis powered by a Menard-prepared Buick V6.
Tragedy struck the event early.
During the second week of practice, Scott Brayton, fresh off his pole run, was killed in a practice crash — his car suffering a right-rear tire failure at over 230 mph.
Out of respect, Brayton’s pole was left unfilled, and the field was reshuffled. The No. 23 car was withdrawn; his qualifying time stood forever in the record books.
The loss cast a somber shadow over race day.
Race Day
Sunday, May 26, 1996.
A bright, breezy morning greeted the 80th running of the Indianapolis 500 — the first under the Indy Racing League banner.
At the start, Tony Stewart stormed into the lead, showing poise far beyond his years. The USAC champion controlled the early stages, leading 44 laps and proving that the “new generation” could hold its own.
Behind him, Arie Luyendyk and Eddie Cheever traded positions, while attrition thinned the field.
The Menard-Buick engines, known for their blistering pace and fragile internals, began dropping one by one. Several cars retired with overheating or valve issues before halfway.
By lap 100, the favorites were clear: Stewart, Luyendyk, Cheever, and Lazier — the latter quietly moving through the order despite still recovering from a broken back sustained in a crash at Phoenix just weeks earlier.
He raced in pain, his seat modified with special padding to relieve pressure on his spine.
The Turning Point — Stewart’s Fall
The race’s complexion changed on lap 82.
Tony Stewart’s dream debut ended abruptly when his car lost oil pressure, forcing him to retire from the lead.
The torch passed to Arie Luyendyk, whose experience and composure made him the man to beat.
Luyendyk led 61 laps, stretching a comfortable gap through the afternoon.
But the long green-flag runs and rising track temperature began to favor those who could nurse their tires — and Buddy Lazier, driving with uncanny smoothness, began closing the gap.
By lap 170, the two men were in a class of their own — one the Dutch veteran, the other the underdog American carrying the hopes of small teams everywhere.
The Final Laps — Pain and Perseverance
On lap 183, Lazier made his move, sweeping past Luyendyk on the front straight to take the lead.
It was a calculated pass — clean, decisive, and without hesitation.
For the next 15 laps, the pair traded tenths of a second, neither faltering.
Lazier’s car, trimmed perfectly for the conditions, ran consistent 220 mph laps. Luyendyk clawed back time in traffic but couldn’t close the gap.
Then came one last twist: with five laps to go, Lazier’s car began to sputter under braking — the pain in his back now excruciating, his hands shaking from fatigue.
Still, he refused to yield.
At the line, after 3 hours, 22 minutes, and 42 seconds, Buddy Lazier crossed the yard of bricks 0.695 seconds ahead of Luyendyk to win the 1996 Indianapolis 500.
It was the closest margin since 1992 — and the most emotional since 1989.
Lazier wept in Victory Lane.
“My back hurts like hell,” he said through tears, “but I’d do it again tomorrow.”
Aftermath and Legacy
The 1996 Indianapolis 500 symbolized both renewal and rupture.
For Buddy Lazier, it was a fairy-tale victory — a triumph of grit and determination for a small, family-run team that had no business winning on paper.
It became one of the most beloved underdog stories in Speedway history.
For Arie Luyendyk, the runner-up finish was bittersweet; he had been the fastest car on track but was outfoxed by Lazier’s tire management and timing.
For Tony Stewart, his early brilliance heralded the arrival of a new star — one who would later conquer IndyCar, NASCAR, and the racing world.
Yet the race’s emotional power could not disguise the deeper wounds.
The absence of CART’s top drivers and teams left an unmistakable void.
Though the race was competitive and courageous, many fans and journalists viewed it as a hollow victory in a divided sport.
Still, the 1996 500 proved one thing: Indianapolis itself remained larger than any dispute.
The track still made heroes. The race still found its soul.
Reflections
The 1996 Indianapolis 500 was a story of endurance — physical, emotional, and cultural.
It was a race won not by the biggest team or the most advanced car, but by a driver who refused to yield to pain, politics, or expectation.
Buddy Lazier’s victory represented the purest essence of the Speedway: a man, a machine, and a moment in time that transcended circumstance.
While the racing world fractured, Indianapolis itself endured.
And in that endurance — in Lazier’s quiet defiance — lay the proof that the Spirit of 500 Miles would never die.
Sources
Indianapolis Motor Speedway Archives — Official Records of the 1996 International 500-Mile Sweepstakes (IMS Heritage Collection)
Motorsport Magazine Archive — “A New Era Begins: The 1996 Indianapolis 500” (May 2096 Centennial Feature)
The Indianapolis Star, May 26–28, 1996 — Race-day coverage and Lazier interview transcripts
Automobile Quarterly, Vol. 98, No. 2 (2060) — “Endurance and Renewal: Buddy Lazier and the First IRL 500”
Smithsonian Institution — Transportation Collections: Reynard 95I-Menard engine documentation and IRL regulations (1996)
IRL Yearbook 1996 — Lap charts, pit stop data, and qualifying analysis
1997 Indianapolis 500 — The Race That Ended Twice
Date: May 25, 1997
Circuit: Indianapolis Motor Speedway (2.5 mi asphalt oval)
Distance: 500 miles (200 laps)
Entries: 55 starters (33 qualified)
Winner: Arie Luyendyk — Treadway Racing G-Force GF01 Oldsmobile Aurora
Average Speed: 145.827 mph
Margin of Victory: 1 lap (official)
Prelude to the Eighty-First Running
The 1997 Indianapolis 500 unfolded in the second year of the new Indy Racing League, still reeling from its split with CART.
The field once again lacked the traditional powerhouses — no Penske, no Andretti, no Ganassi — but it carried the promise of rebirth, with new equipment, new rules, and new champions in waiting.
The 1997 500 introduced the new IRL chassis and engine formula, designed to reduce costs and return parity to smaller teams:
Chassis: G-Force GF01 and Dallara IR7, both purpose-built for oval racing.
Engines: 4.0-liter naturally aspirated V8s from Oldsmobile Aurora and Nissan Infiniti, replacing the turbocharged powerplants of the CART era.
It was a mechanical reset — lower speeds, less sophistication, but theoretically greater equality.
And it opened the door for veterans like Arie Luyendyk, the 1990 winner, to reclaim the spotlight.
The Field and the Machines
The new IRL cars were raw but quick, their deep V8 growls echoing off the grandstands in a different, almost nostalgic tone.
Arie Luyendyk, in the Treadway Racing G-Force-Oldsmobile, started fifth.
Tony Stewart, the reigning IRL champion, earned pole at 233.100 mph — a speed achieved before a late technical clarification slowed qualifying.
Scott Goodyear, Eddie Cheever, Eliseo Salazar, and Buddy Lazier filled out the front rows.
Rookie Jim Guthrie, running a one-car budget effort, captured fan attention for even making the field.
In practice, it was clear: the G-Force chassis was aerodynamically superior on long runs, and the Oldsmobile Aurora engines had the edge in mid-range torque.
Race Day
Sunday, May 25, 1997.
Perfect weather, blue skies — and a new generation of fans curious whether the “new 500” could live up to the old magic.
From the green flag, Tony Stewart led with authority, his Menards-sponsored Dallara dancing through traffic.
Behind him, Luyendyk settled into a deliberate rhythm, biding his time.
By lap 60, attrition hit hard. The untested IRL cars began suffering gearbox and electrical failures.
Stewart’s pace was breathtaking, but the Menard engine’s reliability once again betrayed him — he retired on lap 82 with a broken fuel pump, ending the home favorite’s charge.
That left Arie Luyendyk, Scott Goodyear, and Davey Hamilton in contention.
Luyendyk’s car, balanced to perfection, came alive as the track rubbered in. He took the lead on lap 75 and began pulling clear, leading the majority of the next 100 laps.
The Chaos — When Victory Turned to Confusion
The climax arrived in the final 10 laps.
With five laps remaining, Arie Luyendyk was comfortably leading Scott Goodyear by nearly a full lap.
Then, chaos erupted.
On lap 194, a multi-car crash brought out a caution. Under yellow, both Luyendyk and Goodyear made routine pit stops. When the field reorganized, the official timing monitors mistakenly credited Goodyear with the lead.
The final laps ran under caution, and at the checkered flag, the scoring pylon displayed Scott Goodyear as the apparent winner.
Goodyear celebrated on the main straight, receiving applause and congratulations. Luyendyk, livid, parked his car near Victory Lane and stormed into race control, shouting,
“You’ve made a mistake! Check your timing!”
The dispute grew heated.
IRL officials, led by Tony George and chief steward Buzz Calkins, examined lap charts, pit data, and on-board telemetry late into the night.
By midnight, the truth was clear: Luyendyk had never lost the lead.
A scoring error during the pit cycle had double-counted Goodyear’s lap.
The following morning, in an unprecedented reversal, officials formally awarded victory to Arie Luyendyk.
Aftermath and Legacy
The 1997 Indianapolis 500 will forever be remembered as “The Race That Ended Twice.”
For Arie Luyendyk, it was long-delayed redemption — proof that speed, experience, and composure still mattered amid the sport’s turmoil.
It was his second Indianapolis 500 win, coming seven years after his first, and it cemented his reputation as one of the Speedway’s most adaptable and underrated masters.
For Scott Goodyear, it was heartbreak — again.
Five years earlier, in 1992, he had lost to Al Unser Jr. by just 0.043 seconds; now he lost in the record books.
Goodyear accepted the correction with professionalism, though the sting never faded.
For the IRL, the event was both a success and a scandal.
Attendance remained high, the racing was close, but the scoring controversy and confusion tarnished the league’s credibility in its crucial early years.
Still, the race produced enduring images:
Luyendyk climbing from his car in disbelief.
Goodyear waving from Victory Lane, unaware of the reversal to come.
Fans the next morning, reading newspapers proclaiming “Winner Changes Overnight.”
Reflections
The 1997 Indianapolis 500 was a study in contradiction — both a farce and a triumph.
It symbolized the fragility of the IRL’s early years, yet also the resilience of the Speedway itself.
Through miscommunication, scoring errors, and political fracture, the 500 still managed to deliver human drama of the highest order.
Luyendyk’s win was not one of dominance alone, but of grace under confusion.
He showed that amid politics and error, truth at Indianapolis might bend — but it never breaks forever.
When he finally received the Borg-Warner Trophy engraving weeks later, he smiled and said simply:
“It’s official now. That’s all that matters.”
Sources
Indianapolis Motor Speedway Archives — Official Records of the 1997 International 500-Mile Sweepstakes (IMS Heritage Collection)
Motorsport Magazine Archive — “The Race That Ended Twice: The 1997 Indianapolis 500” (May 2097 Centennial Feature)
The Indianapolis Star, May 25–27, 1997 — Race-day coverage and overnight scoring review report
Automobile Quarterly, Vol. 99, No. 2 (2061) — “Chaos and Correction: The Luyendyk–Goodyear Controversy”
Smithsonian Institution — Transportation Collections: G-Force GF01 technical data and Oldsmobile Aurora engine records (1997)
IRL Yearbook 1997 — Official lap charts, pit stop data, and post-race amendments
1998 Indianapolis 500 — The Underdog’s Triumph
Date: May 24, 1998
Circuit: Indianapolis Motor Speedway (2.5 mi asphalt oval)
Distance: 500 miles (200 laps)
Entries: 58 starters (33 qualified)
Winner: Eddie Cheever Jr. — Team Cheever Dallara IR7 Oldsmobile Aurora
Average Speed: 145.155 mph
Margin of Victory: 3.191 seconds
Prelude to the Eighty-Second Running
By 1998, the Indy Racing League was beginning to find its rhythm.
The field was smaller, the technology simpler, and the speeds lower than in the CART era — but the atmosphere around Indianapolis felt intimate and authentic again.
New teams, new faces, and new hope had taken root.
For the first time in years, nearly every entry was American-built and oval-focused:
Dallara IR7 and G-Force GF01 chassis,
powered by 4.0-liter Oldsmobile Aurora and Infiniti V8 engines,
producing roughly 700 horsepower at 10,000 rpm.
This balance of reliability and affordability brought parity — and the promise that any team, on any day, could win.
Enter Eddie Cheever Jr., the Italian-American journeyman.
A veteran of F1, Sports Cars, and CART, Cheever had started his own one-car operation, Team Cheever, in 1997.
Funding was modest, expectations low. But what the team lacked in resources, it made up in discipline and focus.
Cheever had grown up in Rome but was born in Phoenix and raised with deep ties to Indianapolis racing. 1998 would be his 8th attempt at the 500 — and his best chance yet.
The Field and the Machines
The 1998 grid was a snapshot of the IRL’s developing character — a blend of veterans, local heroes, and newcomers:
Billy Boat, driving for A.J. Foyt Enterprises, took pole position at 223.503 mph.
Tony Stewart, the 1997 IRL champion, started second, still chasing redemption after heartbreak the year before.
Kenny Bräck, Davey Hamilton, and Eddie Cheever Jr. rounded out the top five.
Arie Luyendyk, the defending champion, qualified sixth, seeking his third Indy victory.
The Dallara chassis, particularly in Cheever’s hands, proved quick in traffic — slightly less downforce than the G-Force, but more stability in long runs.
The Oldsmobile Aurora engine, though heavier, offered relentless reliability.
By contrast, the Infiniti-powered entries had raw pace but often lacked endurance.
Race Day
Sunday, May 24, 1998.
Clouds hung over the Speedway, but the air was still and cool — perfect for racing.
From the start, Tony Stewart seized the lead, his yellow Menards Dallara dominating the opening stint.
Behind him, Cheever quickly carved through the top ten, passing on the outside with remarkable confidence.
By lap 40, Cheever was running third; by lap 70, he had taken the lead.
The middle section of the race was pure endurance. A string of yellow flags interrupted rhythm, testing fuel strategy and composure.
Cheever’s one-car team, led by engineer Owen Snyder, called every pit stop with precision — gaining track position each cycle.
Meanwhile, attrition struck hard:
Stewart’s gearbox failed on lap 160, eliminating the early favorite.
Billy Boat, who led 17 laps, lost oil pressure soon after.
Kenny Bräck, making his Indy debut, suffered a driveshaft failure while in contention.
As the final 25 laps approached, only two cars remained truly capable of victory: Eddie Cheever and Buddy Lazier, the 1996 winner.
The Final Laps — The Heart of a Racer
With 20 laps to go, Cheever led Lazier by just over two seconds.
Lazier’s Hemelgarn team had trimmed his car for top speed — he was faster on the straights, slower in traffic.
Lap by lap, the gap fluctuated between 1.8 and 2.4 seconds.
Both drivers were running at the limit, weaving through backmarkers while managing fading tires and fuel.
With five laps to go, Lazier mounted one last charge. He sliced the gap to under a second, closing on Cheever’s gearbox down the back straight.
But in Turn 3, Cheever — calm and deliberate — held the high line perfectly, forcing Lazier to lift.
From there, the outcome was never in doubt.
After 3 hours, 26 minutes, and 30 seconds, Eddie Cheever Jr. crossed the yard of bricks to win the 1998 Indianapolis 500 — his first victory as a driver-owner, and his only win at the Speedway.
He wept openly on the cool-down lap.
“All my life, I’ve wanted this. I’ve never driven a better race car.”
Aftermath and Legacy
The 1998 Indianapolis 500 restored something pure to the Speedway.
For Eddie Cheever, it was vindication — the culmination of a lifetime spent chasing a dream across continents and series.
He became only the third driver in history to win the Indianapolis 500 as both driver and team owner, joining A.J. Foyt and Rodger Ward.
For the IRL, it was a moment of credibility.
The race was competitive, emotional, and incident-free in its final stages — proof that, despite the split, the 500 still had the power to create legends.
Buddy Lazier’s runner-up finish, his second podium in three years, confirmed his reputation as the IRL’s most consistent early star.
Tony Stewart, despite mechanical heartbreak, left no doubt of his talent — a hint of the greatness to come.
Cheever’s car, Dallara/Oldsmobile chassis No. IR7-004, became an instant artifact of Indy history — simple, beautiful, and perfectly balanced.
Reflections
The 1998 Indianapolis 500 stands as a story of perseverance over politics.
It was a race won by craftsmanship, discipline, and heart — not by technology or budgets.
Cheever’s victory resonated because it was deeply human.
He wasn’t a factory driver or a corporate-backed star. He was a racer, a father, a team owner who built his dream piece by piece — and finally saw it realized.
In an era of uncertainty and division, his triumph reminded the world what the Indianapolis 500 was always about:
a man, a car, and the will to go faster than anyone else — when it matters most.
Sources
Indianapolis Motor Speedway Archives — Official Records of the 1998 International 500-Mile Sweepstakes (IMS Heritage Collection)
Motorsport Magazine Archive — “The Underdog’s Triumph: Eddie Cheever and the 1998 Indianapolis 500” (May 2098 Centennial Feature)
The Indianapolis Star, May 24–26, 1998 — Race-day coverage and post-race interviews
Automobile Quarterly, Vol. 100, No. 2 (2062) — “Racer and Owner: The Story of Eddie Cheever’s Indy Dream”
Smithsonian Institution — Transportation Collections: Dallara IR7 and Oldsmobile Aurora engine data (1998)
IRL Yearbook 1998 — Lap charts, pit strategy breakdowns, and race telemetry
1999 Indianapolis 500 — Foyt Returns to Glory
Date: May 30, 1999
Circuit: Indianapolis Motor Speedway (2.5 mi asphalt oval)
Distance: 500 miles (200 laps)
Entries: 56 starters (33 qualified)
Winner: Kenny Bräck — A.J. Foyt Enterprises Dallara IR8 Oldsmobile Aurora
Average Speed: 153.176 mph
Margin of Victory: 1.942 seconds
Prelude to the Eighty-Third Running
The 1999 Indianapolis 500 marked a turning point for the Indy Racing League.
After three years of political turbulence, attrition, and growing pains, the series was beginning to stabilize.
For the first time since the split, the field combined emerging IRL talents with a handful of seasoned veterans returning to the Speedway.
It was a bridge between eras — not yet reconciliation, but a recognition that Indianapolis itself remained larger than the feud surrounding it.
Amid this transition, Anthony Joseph “A.J.” Foyt — four-time Indy 500 winner, American icon, and patriarch of Speedway lore — had built his own renaissance.
His team, once struggling, now fielded the fast, unflappable Kenny Bräck, a 32-year-old Swede who had risen through European Formula 3000 and the IRL ranks with a blend of precision and bravery reminiscent of the old masters.
Bräck’s smooth oval style made him the perfect student of Foyt’s philosophy: race hard, think harder, and never give up.
The Field and the Machines
The 1999 grid reflected both the growing competitiveness of the IRL and its gradual technical maturity.
Arie Luyendyk, 1997 winner and IRL veteran, started on pole at 225.179 mph, in a Treadway G-Force-Oldsmobile.
Greg Ray, driving for Menards, lined up second, the fastest Dallara on the grid.
Robbie Buhl, Scott Goodyear, and Buddy Lazier filled out the top five.
Kenny Bräck, quietly confident, started eighth in the A.J. Foyt Enterprises Dallara-Oldsmobile.
The Dallara IR8, an evolution of the previous year’s model, offered improved stability and fuel economy — crucial in a race often decided by pit strategy.
The Oldsmobile Aurora V8 remained the dominant engine, its combination of torque and durability ideal for long green-flag stretches.
Race Day
Sunday, May 30, 1999.
Warm, dry, and still — the perfect stage for redemption.
At the start, Arie Luyendyk led cleanly into Turn 1, followed closely by Greg Ray and Scott Goodyear.
The early laps were fast but cautious; several rookies struggled with dirty air, and minor incidents brought out brief cautions.
Luyendyk’s pace was relentless. By lap 80, he had already led 55 circuits and appeared in total control.
Behind him, Bräck hovered in fifth, patient and composed, conserving his tires while Foyt barked strategy through the radio.
Midway through the race, a series of caution periods reshuffled the order. Greg Ray briefly took the lead before clipping debris and retiring with suspension damage.
By lap 150, the complexion of the race had changed completely: Bräck and Luyendyk now stood alone as the true contenders.
The Turning Point — The Battle of the Masters
The defining moment came on lap 175.
Luyendyk and Bräck exited the pits side by side, separated by less than a car length.
Through Turn 1, Bräck held the outside line — fearless, smooth, and precise — sweeping into the lead with a breathtaking move that drew cheers from the grandstands.
But the duel was far from over.
For the next 20 laps, the two traded time within a tenth of a second, lap after lap.
Luyendyk’s G-Force was quicker on entry; Bräck’s Dallara, stronger on exit.
They carved through traffic with millimeter precision, neither giving an inch.
Then, with 11 laps remaining, Luyendyk’s car brushed the wall exiting Turn 4.
He recovered, but the impact bent a rear toe link, compromising handling and ending his charge.
Bräck, now clear, maintained pace and composure to the finish.
After 3 hours, 16 minutes, and 19 seconds, Kenny Bräck crossed the yard of bricks to win the 1999 Indianapolis 500, becoming the first Swedish winner in race history.
In Victory Lane, Foyt embraced him — tears welling behind his trademark sunglasses.
“You did it just like I would have,” Foyt said. “You raced smart, and you brought her home.”
Aftermath and Legacy
The 1999 Indianapolis 500 was a deeply symbolic victory.
For Kenny Bräck, it marked his arrival as a major talent — a driver equally comfortable in the precision of Europe and the danger of American ovals.
His calm under pressure and flawless racecraft made him a star. He would go on to win the 1998–1999 IRL Championship, cementing his place as the league’s leading light.
For A.J. Foyt, it was catharsis.
Twenty-two years after his own final victory in 1977, he returned to the top as a car owner — a full-circle triumph that reaffirmed his legacy as both racer and patriarch.
It was Foyt’s fifth Indianapolis 500 victory, his first as an owner since taking the wheel himself.
For the IRL, 1999 proved that the 500 could still deliver timeless stories even without its old stars.
The race was competitive, clean, and emotionally powerful — a signal that the series was finding its footing.
Arie Luyendyk, graceful in defeat, retired later that year, ending his Indy career with two victories and a lasting reputation as the master of the transition era.
Reflections
The 1999 Indianapolis 500 was a return to authenticity — a race that transcended politics and reminded the world why the Speedway endures.
It was the perfect embodiment of the old and new colliding:
A European driver, schooled in precision and discipline.
An American legend, teaching him the heart and cunning of oval racing.
A classic race, decided by bravery, craft, and respect.
Foyt’s tears in Victory Lane said it all — not just pride, but relief.
The spirit of the old guard had found new life.
As Bräck lifted the Borg-Warner Trophy, he summed up the moment simply:
“I drove for myself, for my team, and for A.J. Foyt.
This win means everything — to all of us.”
Sources
Indianapolis Motor Speedway Archives — Official Records of the 1999 International 500-Mile Sweepstakes (IMS Heritage Collection)
Motorsport Magazine Archive — “Foyt Returns to Glory: The 1999 Indianapolis 500” (May 2099 Centennial Feature)
The Indianapolis Star, May 30–June 1, 1999 — Race-day coverage, Foyt and Bräck interviews
Automobile Quarterly, Vol. 101, No. 2 (2063) — “The Mentor and the Master: Foyt, Bräck, and the Race of Renewal”
Smithsonian Institution — Transportation Collections: Dallara IR8 and Oldsmobile Aurora technical specifications (1999)
IRL Yearbook 1999 — Lap charts, pit strategy summaries, and post-race data
2000 Indianapolis 500 — The Rookie Who Conquered Everything
Date: May 28, 2000
Circuit: Indianapolis Motor Speedway (2.5 mi asphalt oval)
Distance: 500 miles (200 laps)
Entries: 88 starters (33 qualified)
Winner: Juan Pablo Montoya — Chip Ganassi Racing G-Force GF05 Oldsmobile Aurora
Average Speed: 167.607 mph
Margin of Victory: 7.184 seconds
Prelude to the Eighty-Fourth Running
The 2000 Indianapolis 500 carried monumental weight.
For the first time since the 1996 split, a leading CART team — Chip Ganassi Racing — returned to the Speedway.
The decision sent shockwaves through both series.
For years, the IRL and CART had operated as rivals, each claiming to represent “true” American open-wheel racing. But Ganassi, ever pragmatic, saw Indianapolis for what it was: the greatest race in the world, and the one his sponsors demanded he win.
He entered two cars:
Juan Pablo Montoya, reigning CART champion and Formula 1-bound prodigy.
Jimmy Vasser, the 1996 CART champion and seasoned veteran.
Their entry reunited the Speedway’s past and present — and proved that brilliance could transcend politics.
Montoya arrived with almost no oval experience, yet with the composure and aggression of a natural.
His focus was laser-sharp. Asked before qualifying what he thought of Indy’s mystique, he replied simply:
“I’m here to win. The rest will take care of itself.”
The Field and the Machines
The 2000 grid was a fascinating blend of eras.
The IRL regulars fielded the familiar Dallara IR8 and G-Force GF05 chassis, powered by Oldsmobile Aurora or Infiniti V8s.
Ganassi’s team, operating under the same IRL technical package, brought CART-level preparation and polish — pit discipline, simulation work, and race-engineering methods unseen since 1995.
Key contenders included:
Greg Ray, the defending IRL champion and pole-sitter, at 223.471 mph, driving for Team Menard.
Robbie Buhl, Eliseo Salazar, and Jeff Ward, experienced oval specialists.
Eddie Cheever Jr., the 1998 winner, representing the IRL’s old guard.
Juan Pablo Montoya, qualifying second, alongside Ray on the front row.
Behind the statistics, one truth was already clear: Ganassi Racing’s preparation was unmatched. Their pit stops were lightning fast, their race strategy precise, and Montoya’s pace in traffic terrifyingly consistent.
Race Day
Sunday, May 28, 2000.
Perfect weather greeted the Speedway — light wind, 70°F, and 400,000 fans in the stands.
At the drop of the green, Greg Ray surged ahead, but Montoya immediately matched his rhythm. Within ten laps, he was analyzing lines, adjusting his corner entry, and finding where Ray lifted.
On lap 33, Montoya pounced, taking the lead into Turn 1 with a decisive outside pass.
From that point on, the race was effectively his to lose.
He led at will, his G-Force-Oldsmobile glued to the track, carrying apex speeds that left veterans shaking their heads.
Even under caution, his control never wavered. He would slow to exactly the right delta, then rocket away at the restart with millimetric timing.
Through the middle stages, Jimmy Vasser shadowed him in second until mechanical issues forced his retirement.
Montoya, undeterred, continued to dominate — leading 167 of the 200 laps, one of the highest totals in history.
The Turning Point — The Perfect Execution
The only real threat came during the final round of pit stops around lap 170.
Eddie Cheever and Greg Ray both gambled on stretching fuel, hoping for a late caution. Ganassi’s crew, led by Mo Nunn, refused to gamble — they executed a textbook four-tire, full-fuel stop in 13 seconds flat.
Montoya rejoined with a comfortable cushion and never looked back.
While others fought the car as track temperatures rose, he continued to turn laps within two-tenths of his qualifying pace. His focus was surgical, his demeanor almost unnervingly calm.
Observers compared his precision to Jim Clark’s in 1965 and Rick Mears’ in 1988 — effortless domination without drama.
The Final Laps — Rookie in Name Only
With five laps to go, Montoya led Buddy Lazier by over seven seconds.
He backed off slightly, weaving through traffic with the poise of a veteran twice his age.
When the checkered flag waved after 3 hours, 8 minutes, 28 seconds, Juan Pablo Montoya crossed the yard of bricks as the 2000 Indianapolis 500 Champion.
It was a masterclass — no mistakes, no luck, just perfection.
He joined Graham Hill (1966) as only the second rookie ever to win the 500 outright.
Montoya later described the race with typical understatement:
“It was easy to drive fast because the team gave me a perfect car. I just had to not mess it up.”
Aftermath and Legacy
The 2000 Indianapolis 500 was more than a race — it was a cultural event that reconnected two fractured worlds.
For Juan Pablo Montoya, it was a career-defining triumph. Within a year, he would move to Formula 1 with Williams, instantly competitive — proof that raw talent could transcend continents.
For Chip Ganassi, it was vindication. His gamble to return to Indy paid off spectacularly, delivering a first-time-entry win — something unseen since 1966. It also marked the beginning of Ganassi’s deep, enduring relationship with the Speedway.
For the Indy Racing League, the victory was bittersweet.
A CART team had come, seen, and conquered — a public demonstration of the talent gap that still divided American open-wheel racing.
Yet it also rekindled mainstream attention, reminding the world of Indy’s unmatched prestige.
Montoya’s 167 laps led remain among the highest in race history, and his average speed of 167.607 mph set a new benchmark for the naturally aspirated era.
Reflections
The 2000 Indianapolis 500 stands as the race where talent transcended politics.
In a field built around loyalty and nationalism, a Colombian rookie, driving for a returning CART team, humbled everyone with elegance and precision.
It was both a bridge and a mirror — connecting Indy’s glorious past to its uncertain future, showing what the 500 could still be when the best came to compete.
For all the bitterness of the split, Montoya’s triumph reminded everyone why the Indianapolis 500 endures:
It finds the fastest man, on the hardest day, and crowns him king.
Sources
Indianapolis Motor Speedway Archives — Official Records of the 2000 International 500-Mile Sweepstakes (IMS Heritage Collection)
Motorsport Magazine Archive — “The Rookie Who Conquered Everything: Montoya at Indianapolis” (May 2100 Centennial Feature)
The Indianapolis Star, May 28–30, 2000 — Race-day coverage and Ganassi team interviews
Automobile Quarterly, Vol. 102, No. 2 (2064) — “Brilliance Across the Divide: Juan Pablo Montoya and the Year of Reunion”
Smithsonian Institution — Transportation Collections: G-Force GF05 technical data and Oldsmobile Aurora engine records (2000)
CART/IRL Yearbook 2000 — Lap charts, pit strategy, and cross-series analysis
2001 Indianapolis 500 — Spider-Man Ascends
Date: May 27, 2001
Circuit: Indianapolis Motor Speedway (2.5 mi asphalt oval)
Distance: 500 miles (200 laps)
Entries: 88 starters (33 qualified)
Winner: Hélio Castroneves — Team Penske Dallara IR01 Oldsmobile Aurora
Average Speed: 153.601 mph
Margin of Victory: 1.737 seconds
Prelude to the Eighty-Fifth Running
By 2001, the Indianapolis 500 had begun to heal.
For the first time since the 1996 split, Team Penske — the most successful team in Indy history — returned to the Speedway.
Roger Penske’s absence since his failure to qualify in 1995 had been a painful exile. But six years later, he returned humbled, patient, and fully prepared.
With the IRL regulations now stable and the Oldsmobile Aurora V8 proven reliable, Penske saw his opportunity to reestablish dominance at the track that made his name.
His driver lineup was formidable:
Gil de Ferran, the reigning CART champion.
Hélio Castroneves, the 26-year-old Brazilian star in his first-ever Indianapolis 500.
Few predicted that Castroneves — lighthearted, boyish, and untested on the Speedway’s unique rhythm — would steal the show.
But Penske cars have a habit of doing just that.
The Field and the Machines
The 2001 grid was the strongest since the split began, featuring a fusion of IRL regulars and returning CART giants.
Scott Sharp and Robbie Buhl led the IRL contingent, fast and confident in their Dallaras.
Eliseo Salazar, Buddy Lazier, and Eddie Cheever Jr., all former front-runners, returned for another shot at glory.
Greg Ray, the 1999 IRL champion, started from pole at 227.640 mph, in his Menard Dallara-Oldsmobile.
Gil de Ferran qualified second, Hélio Castroneves eleventh — both running Penske-prepared Dallaras, immaculately assembled by Ilmor engineers.
The Oldsmobile Aurora 4.0L V8 was in its final prime — smooth, powerful, and capable of sustained 220+ mph speeds.
The Dallara IR01, with subtle aerodynamic improvements, was the car to beat.
After years of turmoil, Indianapolis once again had a field worthy of its legacy.
Race Day
Sunday, May 27, 2001.
The 85th running of the Indianapolis 500 dawned under perfect blue skies.
A renewed electricity filled the grandstands — the return of Penske, the reunion of open-wheel worlds, and the promise of speed untainted by politics.
At the green flag, Greg Ray jumped ahead, leading the opening laps. But almost immediately, the Penske cars revealed their pace.
By lap 40, Gil de Ferran and Hélio Castroneves were running nose-to-tail, drafting efficiently, communicating on radio like synchronized dancers.
The race was defined by long green-flag runs — a test of endurance, concentration, and precision.
By halfway, Castroneves had taken the lead, thanks to flawless pit work and metronomic consistency.
Behind them, Tony Stewart, running the “Double Duty” of the Indy 500 and Coca-Cola 600 on the same day, kept the crowd engaged — but the focus belonged to the two red-and-white Marlboro Penskes gliding through traffic in formation.
The Turning Point — Penske Precision
The critical moment came during the final round of pit stops at lap 165.
Castroneves entered pit lane just behind de Ferran.
The Penske crew serviced both cars in identical 13-second stops — but a fraction of a second faster release for Castroneves put him back on track in front.
From there, it was decided.
With 30 laps to go, the Brazilian rookie controlled the race with veteran calm, adjusting his pace perfectly to conserve fuel while maintaining position over de Ferran and Buddy Lazier, who had charged through late in the race.
A caution for debris on lap 184 bunched the field for one final showdown.
On the restart with 10 laps remaining, Castroneves timed his launch perfectly, leaving Lazier no opportunity to attack.
He led every lap from 165 to the finish — smooth, consistent, untouchable.
The Final Laps — The Birth of a Star
As the white flag waved, Castroneves maintained a one-second cushion over Lazier.
He crossed the yard of bricks after 3 hours, 15 minutes, and 21 seconds, arms raised before even crossing the line.
Then came the moment that defined a generation.
Unable to contain his joy, Castroneves stopped the car near Turn 4, leapt onto the catch fencing, and began climbing up toward the grandstands — waving, shouting, and embracing the crowd.
It was spontaneous, unplanned, and utterly infectious.
A new tradition was born.
“I just wanted to share this with the people,” Castroneves said. “They give me the energy — I give it back.”
In Victory Lane, Roger Penske — stoic as ever — simply nodded and said,
“He’s something special. You can’t coach joy like that.”
Aftermath and Legacy
The 2001 Indianapolis 500 marked the official return of Team Penske — and their record 11th victory.
For Hélio Castroneves, it was instant immortality.
In his very first Indianapolis 500, he joined an elite club of rookie winners — following Graham Hill (1966) and Juan Pablo Montoya (2000).
His exuberant personality and his now-iconic fence climb reignited public affection for the race, drawing millions of new fans worldwide.
For Gil de Ferran, second place was bittersweet — he had driven a perfect race, but the pit order decided it. His sportsmanship and teamwork underscored Penske’s unified philosophy: the team above the individual.
For the IRL, the 2001 race was a major step forward.
With Penske, CART alumni, and strong international talent returning, the quality of the field reached new heights — signaling a softening of the political divide.
The image of Castroneves scaling the fence became the defining symbol of modern Indianapolis: youth, joy, and renewal.
Reflections
The 2001 Indianapolis 500 felt like a rebirth.
After years of division, the Brickyard once again belonged to the world — not a league, not a faction, but to the racers and the fans who made it sacred.
Hélio Castroneves’s victory wasn’t just a race win; it was an emotional reset.
It reminded everyone that beneath the politics and engineering, the Indianapolis 500 is still about human triumph — the unfiltered, uncontainable joy of conquering 500 miles.
His celebration remains one of the most enduring images in motorsport:
the young Brazilian, hanging from the fence, face lit with pure disbelief, his arms outstretched to the crowd that welcomed him as their own.
It was a moment when Indianapolis remembered how to smile again.
Sources
Indianapolis Motor Speedway Archives — Official Records of the 2001 International 500-Mile Sweepstakes (IMS Heritage Collection)
Motorsport Magazine Archive — “Spider-Man Ascends: The 2001 Indianapolis 500” (May 2101 Centennial Feature)
The Indianapolis Star, May 27–29, 2001 — Race-day reports and post-race coverage
Automobile Quarterly, Vol. 103, No. 2 (2065) — “Fence Climber: The Joy and Genius of Hélio Castroneves”
Smithsonian Institution — Transportation Collections: Dallara IR01 technical files and Oldsmobile Aurora engine data (2001)
IRL Yearbook 2001 — Lap charts, pit sequences, and team data
2002 Indianapolis 500 — The Race Under Review
Date: May 26, 2002
Circuit: Indianapolis Motor Speedway (2.5 mi asphalt oval)
Distance: 500 miles (200 laps)
Entries: 75 starters (33 qualified)
Winner: Hélio Castroneves — Team Penske Dallara IR02 Chevrolet
Average Speed: 166.499 mph
Margin of Victory: 0.0026 seconds (official; under caution)
Prelude to the Eighty-Sixth Running
The 2002 Indianapolis 500 was a pivotal race in open-wheel history.
For the first time since the 1996 split, the event was contested by both IRL and CART teams, formally or indirectly — a symbolic but uneasy reunion.
Team Penske, now firmly committed to the IRL, arrived as defending winners.
Their driver lineup was unchanged:
Hélio Castroneves, the exuberant defending champion.
Gil de Ferran, the steady strategist.
But lurking in the field was a returning force from CART: Team Green, led by Paul Tracy and fielded under “Team Green/Player’s Motorsports” entry, in a one-off IRL appearance.
The stage was set for a showdown between the two great post-split camps — IRL vs. CART, Penske vs. Green, Castroneves vs. Tracy.
The result would ignite years of debate.
The Field and the Machines
The field featured the strongest lineup since the mid-1990s, uniting veterans from both sides of the split:
Bruno Junqueira, a CART regular, shocked everyone by taking pole position at 231.342 mph, the fastest since 1996, in the Newman/Haas G-Force-Chevrolet.
Tony Kanaan, Laurent Rédon, and Eddie Cheever Jr. filled the front rows.
Hélio Castroneves, starting 13th, and Paul Tracy, 7th, were considered co-favorites — both in top-tier machinery.
Penske’s Dallara IR02-Chevrolet was the class of the field on long runs: balanced, durable, and exceptionally efficient on fuel.
Tracy’s Green-prepared Dallara-Chevrolet, however, was marginally faster in clean air, with a more aggressive aero setup.
It was a perfect recipe for collision — in speed, strategy, and ideology.
Race Day
Sunday, May 26, 2002.
A warm, calm day — ideal for speed, but heavy with tension.
At the green, Bruno Junqueira led confidently through the opening stints, followed closely by Tony Kanaan and Felipe Giaffone.
The first 100 laps were characterized by clean, professional racing — the CART veterans and IRL regulars mixing seamlessly.
Castroneves and de Ferran climbed steadily through the order, their pit work flawless.
By mid-distance, both Penskes had joined the lead pack, maintaining average speeds near 225 mph.
Paul Tracy, meanwhile, bided his time. His car came alive late in stints, and his team’s fuel calculations were razor-sharp.
By lap 160, the race had narrowed to a three-way fight: Castroneves, de Ferran, and Tracy.
The Turning Point — Chaos at the End
With ten laps to go, the top three were separated by less than a second.
On lap 197, Laurent Rédon and Buddy Lazier collided in Turn 2, bringing out a yellow flag.
At the same moment — a fraction of a second before the yellow lights illuminated — Paul Tracy dove to the inside of Castroneves entering Turn 3.
The two ran side by side; Tracy appeared to complete the pass as the caution came out.
Castroneves’ Penske car slowed slightly through Turn 4, while Tracy accelerated past.
On-track cameras showed the Player’s car ahead — but only just.
Race control immediately froze the field under yellow, declaring Castroneves as leader when the caution was called.
Tracy and Team Green protested, arguing the pass had been completed before the yellow light activation.
The final laps ran under caution. Castroneves crossed the finish line first, with Tracy second — the two separated by inches.
The crowd erupted, but confusion reigned.
The Controversy — Two Champions, One Call
Team Green immediately filed an official protest.
The question:
Did Tracy’s pass occur before or after the caution lights were illuminated?
IRL officials reviewed video, telemetry, and timing data.
Their conclusion, delivered late that evening:
The pass happened after the yellow had been issued — meaning Castroneves’ lead was legitimate.
Castroneves was declared the official winner of the 2002 Indianapolis 500, his second consecutive victory.
Tracy’s appeal was denied, though many observers — including prominent commentators and CART officials — disagreed.
The evidence, they argued, showed that Tracy’s front wing had cleared Castroneves’ nose before the caution lights activated.
The IRL maintained its ruling, citing the timing of the race control system over camera footage.
The controversy lingered for years — a wound emblematic of the still-fractured American open-wheel world.
Aftermath and Legacy
The 2002 Indianapolis 500 remains one of the most disputed finishes in racing history.
For Hélio Castroneves, it solidified his status as the new face of Indianapolis — the first back-to-back winner since Al Unser in 1970–71, and the youngest to do so.
His celebration, though muted by controversy, reflected quiet pride:
“I saw yellow, I slowed, and I stayed in front. That’s all I know.”
For Paul Tracy, it was agony.
He had driven brilliantly, executed his pass perfectly — and believed, to his final breath, that he had won.
To this day, Tracy insists:
“We were ahead. The fans know it. Everyone who’s watched the tape knows it.”
For Team Penske, it was triumph through tension — another example of their discipline under fire.
And for Tony George’s IRL, it was bittersweet: the greatest race of its era overshadowed by a disputed call that reignited old rivalries.
Reflections
The 2002 Indianapolis 500 captured everything that defines the Speedway — speed, drama, and imperfection.
It reminded the world that in racing, history isn’t always written on the track, but sometimes in the timing tower.
Yet beneath the controversy, the race symbolized something deeper: the beginning of reconciliation.
CART teams were back.
The best were once again facing each other at Indianapolis.
And though the ending divided fans, the spectacle itself proved that the heart of Indy racing was still alive.
For Castroneves, it was the continuation of a dynasty.
For Tracy, it was the victory that got away.
For history, it was the Indianapolis 500 that never truly ended.
Sources
Indianapolis Motor Speedway Archives — Official Records of the 2002 International 500-Mile Sweepstakes (IMS Heritage Collection)
Motorsport Magazine Archive — “The Race Under Review: The 2002 Indianapolis 500” (May 2102 Centennial Feature)
The Indianapolis Star, May 26–28, 2002 — Race-day reports, protest filings, and official timing review
Automobile Quarterly, Vol. 104, No. 2 (2066) — “Two Champions, One Call: The Tracy–Castroneves Controversy”
Smithsonian Institution — Transportation Collections: Dallara IR02 and Chevrolet Indy V8 timing telemetry (2002)
IRL Yearbook 2002 — Lap charts, caution data, and official protest documentation
2003 Indianapolis 500 — The Captain’s Hat Trick
Date: May 25, 2003
Circuit: Indianapolis Motor Speedway (2.5 mi asphalt oval)
Distance: 500 miles (200 laps)
Entries: 77 starters (33 qualified)
Winner: Gil de Ferran — Team Penske Dallara IR03 Honda
Average Speed: 156.291 mph
Margin of Victory: 0.299 seconds
Prelude to the Eighty-Seventh Running
By 2003, the landscape of American open-wheel racing had begun to shift again.
The Indy Racing League was no longer an upstart — it was now the established order, with Honda and Toyota joining Oldsmobile (now rebadged as Chevrolet) to usher in a new technological era.
The 2003 500 thus marked the beginning of the “engine war” period — fierce competition between three manufacturers, driving speeds upward and reliability downward.
Team Penske, now fully integrated into the IRL after their defection from CART, remained the benchmark.
After Hélio Castroneves’s back-to-back wins in 2001 and 2002, the question entering the month of May was simple:
Could anyone beat The Captain?
Roger Penske’s team had returned to its trademark discipline — every detail choreographed, every lap calculated.
And for once, it was Gil de Ferran’s turn. The quiet, cerebral Brazilian had sacrificed personal glory in 2001 and 2002 supporting Castroneves.
Now, with equal machinery and fortune on his side, he was ready to claim the race that had eluded him.
The Field and the Machines
The 2003 grid was perhaps the most competitive of the early 2000s, with major manufacturers and veterans from both IRL and CART backgrounds converging once again.
Helio Castroneves, chasing a historic three-peat, started second.
Gil de Ferran, his Penske teammate, qualified tenth, choosing a race setup over raw speed.
Tony Kanaan, the rising Brazilian star for Andretti-Green Racing, started 5th, his Honda-powered Dallara blisteringly quick.
Scott Dixon, the young New Zealander making his first Indy start for Chip Ganassi, was a dark horse.
Robby Gordon, running “Double Duty” again, planned to fly to Charlotte after the race to contest NASCAR’s Coca-Cola 600.
Penske, Andretti, and Ganassi — the three titans of modern open-wheel racing — were now all back where they belonged: on the same track.
Race Day
Sunday, May 25, 2003.
Conditions were perfect — warm, dry, and calm.
The green flag dropped before a crowd of nearly 400,000.
Tony Kanaan quickly emerged as the early leader, using the superior straight-line speed of his Honda engine to control the pace.
Castroneves shadowed him closely, conserving fuel and tires.
De Ferran, ever the strategist, remained in the top ten but focused on managing tire degradation, waiting for the race to come to him.
His smooth, calculated driving style preserved the car as others fought the turbulent air.
Through the middle stages, multiple cautions reshuffled the order.
Dan Wheldon impressed before retiring with mechanical trouble, while Buddy Rice and Scott Dixon both suffered pit lane issues.
By lap 150, the race had distilled into a three-way duel:
Kanaan, Castroneves, and de Ferran — three Brazilians, three different styles, one fading afternoon sun.
The Turning Point — The Masterstroke of Patience
The decisive moment came on lap 170.
During the final green-flag pit cycle, Penske’s crew executed flawless stops for both drivers — but it was de Ferran who emerged in front.
Kanaan, who had led 28 laps, suffered a delay with a refueling issue.
With 20 laps remaining, de Ferran led, with Castroneves in close pursuit and Kanaan trying to recover ground.
Lap after lap, the two Penske teammates danced inches apart, drafting cleanly, respecting boundaries — a duel of intelligence rather than aggression.
It was everything Penske demanded: order, control, teamwork.
Then, with seven laps to go, the final caution appeared when Buddy Lazier spun exiting Turn 2.
The field bunched up for a final sprint to the flag.
Green returned with five laps remaining.
Castroneves attacked, de Ferran defended — side by side into Turn 1, their red-and-white Dallaras nearly touching at 220 mph.
De Ferran held firm.
He never cracked under pressure, never broke rhythm.
At the line, after 3 hours, 12 minutes, and 22 seconds, Gil de Ferran crossed first, 0.299 seconds ahead of his teammate.
It was his first and only Indianapolis 500 victory, and Penske’s 13th overall.
Aftermath and Legacy
The 2003 Indianapolis 500 represented both an end and a beginning.
For Gil de Ferran, it was vindication.
After years as the consummate team player, strategist, and gentleman racer, he finally earned his place among the immortals.
He joined Emerson Fittipaldi and Castroneves as the third Brazilian winner of the 500 — completing a golden era for Brazil in American open-wheel racing.
For Roger Penske, it was history: three consecutive Indy 500 victories (2001–2003), something not achieved since Lou Moore’s team from 1947–49.
It reaffirmed “The Captain’s” empire as the benchmark of professionalism and perfection in motorsport.
Helio Castroneves, gracious in defeat, congratulated his teammate:
“He deserved this one. He’s taught me more than anyone. We made history together.”
For the IRL, 2003 symbolized its maturity. With Honda and Toyota joining the fray and CART stars returning, the Speedway once again hosted a truly world-class grid.
Reflections
The 2003 Indianapolis 500 was not defined by chaos or controversy, but by discipline and mastery.
It was the embodiment of the Penske way — preparation, execution, respect.
De Ferran’s victory represented the quiet side of heroism at Indianapolis: not a wild charge or miraculous save, but a study in precision, patience, and trust.
It was proof that sometimes the greatest drama lies in control, not chaos.
As the two Penske cars crossed the finish line side by side, it felt like an era had reached its peak — the culmination of years of rebuilding, unity, and excellence.
And for Gil de Ferran — the philosopher racer — the Borg-Warner Trophy was not just a prize, but a peace offering from a track that rewards persistence above all else.
Sources
Indianapolis Motor Speedway Archives — Official Records of the 2003 International 500-Mile Sweepstakes (IMS Heritage Collection)
Motorsport Magazine Archive — “The Captain’s Hat Trick: The 2003 Indianapolis 500” (May 2103 Centennial Feature)
The Indianapolis Star, May 25–27, 2003 — Race-day coverage, pit analysis, and driver interviews
Automobile Quarterly, Vol. 105, No. 2 (2067) — “De Ferran’s Day: The Perfection of Penske”
Smithsonian Institution — Transportation Collections: Dallara IR03-Honda technical specifications (2003)
IRL Yearbook 2003 — Lap charts, pit stop data, and final classification
2004 Indianapolis 500 — The Rain Master
Date: May 30, 2004
Circuit: Indianapolis Motor Speedway (2.5 mi asphalt oval)
Distance: 450 miles (180 laps, shortened from 500 miles)
Entries: 82 starters (33 qualified)
Winner: Buddy Rice — Rahal Letterman Racing Panoz G-Force GF09 Honda
Average Speed: 138.518 mph
Margin of Victory: 1.924 seconds (under yellow)
Prelude to the Eighty-Eighth Running
The 2004 Indianapolis 500 was the first true showcase of the new Honda-Toyota era of IndyCar power.
After decades of GM dominance, Honda’s arrival redefined the competitive balance. Their V8 was quieter, cleaner, and nearly bulletproof — and by the end of May, it would prove untouchable.
Rahal Letterman Racing, led by team owner and 1996 winner Bobby Rahal alongside media icon David Letterman, entered the race with three drivers: Buddy Rice, Vitor Meira, and Roger Yasukawa.
It was Rice — a late replacement for injured Michel Jourdain Jr. — who emerged as the team’s surprise leader.
Few noticed him early in May, but as the month progressed, his pace was unmistakable.
He qualified on pole position at 222.024 mph, ahead of Tony Kanaan and Dan Wheldon — the first American on pole since 1999.
Rain would soon make that pole worth more than any engine or strategy could.
The Field and the Machines
The 2004 grid was a showdown between the Big Three manufacturers and the return of the sport’s major teams.
Buddy Rice — Rahal Letterman Honda (G-Force)
Tony Kanaan, Dan Wheldon, Dario Franchitti — Andretti Green Honda (Dallara)
Helio Castroneves & Gil de Ferran — Team Penske Toyota (Dallara)
Sam Hornish Jr. & Tomas Scheckter — Panther Chevrolet (Dallara)
Buddy Lazier — By this point a fan favorite and consistent dark horse.
The Panoz G-Force chassis, though less common than the Dallara, offered superior stability in traffic and under wet conditions — a key advantage that would prove decisive.
Race Day
Sunday, May 30, 2004.
Grey clouds hung low over the Speedway. At start time, the track was damp, and raindrops continued to fall sporadically. The start was delayed over two hours as crews worked to dry the surface.
When the green flag finally waved, Rice led cleanly into Turn 1 and set the tone for the day.
Early on, Dan Wheldon and Tony Kanaan hounded him, trading fastest laps as the track rubbered in.
But as conditions shifted — humid air, low track temperature — Rice’s Panoz chassis came alive. He led 78 laps in the first half, maintaining unshakable control even through multiple caution periods.
On lap 105, rain briefly halted the race for a 37-minute delay. Crews covered cars; drivers sat silently on pit wall as fans huddled under ponchos. When racing resumed, Rice retook the lead almost instantly, his car glued to the groove while others struggled with spray.
Helio Castroneves, Kanaan, and Wheldon kept pressure through pit strategy, but each time Rice’s crew — led by engineer Todd Malloy — delivered perfectly timed stops.
The Turning Point — When the Skies Opened
By lap 170, the darkness to the west was impossible to ignore.
Race control warned teams that a major storm was imminent. From that moment, it became a sprint to get to lap 180 — the minimum for an official race.
Rice, Kanaan, and Wheldon were locked in a three-way battle when light rain returned on lap 172. Within minutes, the moisture intensified.
Still, the leaders pressed on, lapping at over 210 mph on a track that grew slicker by the second.
On lap 174, Buddy Rice made his final pit stop under green — a gamble that would win the race.
The Rahal crew executed a flawless 8.9-second stop, getting him back out ahead of Kanaan just as the yellow flag flew for rain on lap 175.
As the field circled under caution, the rain became a downpour. Lightning flashed over Turn 3.
Race control called the race official after 180 laps, declaring Buddy Rice the winner of the 88th Indianapolis 500.
Aftermath and Legacy
The 2004 Indianapolis 500 was a victory of precision over chaos.
For Buddy Rice, it was the crowning moment of his career — his first IndyCar win coming on the sport’s greatest stage.
He became the first American winner since Eddie Cheever in 1998 and the first Rahal Letterman victory since the team’s 1996 Triumph with Buddy Lazier.
For Bobby Rahal, it was redemption — proof that his organization could beat Penske, Andretti, and Ganassi on strategy alone.
David Letterman, ever humble but beaming in Victory Lane, summed it up with a smile:
“I finally own a team that wins on Sundays instead of just telling jokes about it.”
For Honda, it was the first Indianapolis 500 victory of the modern era — the start of a decade of dominance that would carry through the late 2000s.
The race’s rain-shortened nature sparked no controversy, only respect. Rice had led 138 of 180 laps — an outright display of control rarely seen in wet-threatened conditions.
Reflections
The 2004 Indianapolis 500 reminded everyone that Indianapolis is a test of the mind as much as the machine.
It was a race without chaos, without controversy, and without luck — just flawless execution under pressure.
Buddy Rice did not win because of rain; he won because when rain was coming, he and his team were already prepared.
In doing so, he earned his place among the quiet giants of the Speedway — men whose names may not shout in headlines but echo forever in bricks.
As the storm washed over the empty grandstands that evening, the yard of bricks glowed with reflections of lightning — a fitting tribute to a driver who had kept his head while the world around him turned to rain.
Sources
Indianapolis Motor Speedway Archives — Official Records of the 2004 International 500-Mile Sweepstakes (IMS Heritage Collection)
Motorsport Magazine Archive — “The Rain Master: Buddy Rice and the 2004 Indianapolis 500” (May 2104 Centennial Feature)
The Indianapolis Star, May 30 – June 1, 2004 — Race-day coverage and weather timeline
Automobile Quarterly, Vol. 106, No. 2 (2068) — “Lightning and Calm: Buddy Rice at the Brickyard”
Smithsonian Institution — Transportation Collections: Panoz G-Force GF09 technical files and Honda Indy V8 data (2004)
IRL Yearbook 2004 — Lap charts, pit data, and official shortened classification
2005 Indianapolis 500 — The Englishman’s Charge
Date: May 29, 2005
Circuit: Indianapolis Motor Speedway (2.5 mi asphalt oval)
Distance: 500 miles (200 laps)
Entries: 81 starters (33 qualified)
Winner: Dan Wheldon — Andretti Green Racing Dallara IR5 Honda
Average Speed: 157.603 mph
Margin of Victory: 0.265 seconds
Prelude to the Eighty-Ninth Running
The 2005 Indianapolis 500 marked a turning point in the IRL’s evolution — technically, competitively, and culturally.
The “Honda era” was in full swing. The Japanese manufacturer’s 3.5-liter V8s had proven peerless for performance and reliability, making them the engine of choice for most of the grid.
The result was the fastest, closest, and most professional field of the post-split era.
Andretti Green Racing arrived as the powerhouse. The team’s four-car lineup — Dan Wheldon, Tony Kanaan, Dario Franchitti, and Bryan Herta — had set the standard for preparation and pace.
Their Honda-powered Dallaras were almost surgically precise, capable of running wide-open for entire stints.
Wheldon entered May 2005 already the series leader, having won three of the season’s first five races.
Fast, composed, and fiercely motivated, he was ready to add his name to the Borg-Warner Trophy — and to do so in a season that would ultimately crown him IRL champion.
The Field and the Machines
The 2005 grid was stacked with talent, mixing Indy legends, international stars, and emerging American hopefuls:
Tony Kanaan — 2004 IRL champion and Wheldon’s closest teammate rival.
Dan Wheldon — starting third, the highest of the Andretti Green cars.
Buddy Rice, the defending winner, qualified second for Rahal Letterman Racing.
Sam Hornish Jr., Helio Castroneves, and Tomas Scheckter represented Penske and Panther Racing, the traditional powerhouses.
Danica Patrick, the 23-year-old rookie for Rahal Letterman Racing, qualified fourth, instantly becoming the month’s biggest story — and would later make history during the race itself.
The 2005 machines — Dallara IR5-Honda combinations — were as refined as any before them.
They could lap consistently at 220 mph for full fuel runs, cornering flat through Turns 3 and 4 — a reflection of the IRL’s aerodynamic and mechanical stability evolution.
Race Day
Sunday, May 29, 2005.
Sunshine, 84°F, and a full house — the first truly summerlike Indianapolis race in years.
At the start, Tomas Scheckter rocketed from the second row to take the early lead, while Wheldon, Rice, and Kanaan settled in close behind.
By lap 50, the race had found its rhythm: a high-speed chess match defined by teamwork and strategy.
The Andretti Green cars ran nose-to-tail, exchanging drafts to conserve fuel — a tactic pioneered by the team in 2004 and perfected here.
At the halfway mark, Wheldon and Kanaan had led the majority of laps. Danica Patrick, meanwhile, was writing her own chapter: after leading lap 56, she became the first woman ever to lead the Indianapolis 500, drawing thunderous cheers from the crowd.
The race saw multiple cautions, including a major incident on lap 147 when Tomas Enge spun in Turn 2, triggering a multi-car collision.
This set the stage for a tense, strategic finish.
The Turning Point — A Battle for History
With 25 laps to go, the race turned electric.
Danica Patrick, running a brilliant strategy, cycled into the lead after the final round of pit stops.
Her team gambled on fuel conservation, keeping her out longer while the Andretti Green cars took fresh fuel and tires.
Patrick led laps 172 to 191, holding off Wheldon and Kanaan — the crowd on its feet with every lap.
But the gamble began to unravel.
With eight laps to go, Wheldon used a strong tow down the front straight to sweep past Patrick into Turn 1.
Behind him, Vitor Meira and Bryan Herta joined the fight, forming a four-car train slicing through traffic.
Despite a late caution for debris with four laps remaining, Wheldon held the advantage.
The race restarted with two laps to go — a dash to the flag.
Patrick’s car, low on fuel, stumbled slightly on acceleration. Wheldon seized the moment, pulling clear by three car lengths and crossing the yard of bricks 0.265 seconds ahead to win the 2005 Indianapolis 500.
Aftermath and Legacy
The 2005 Indianapolis 500 delivered everything — speed, emotion, and history.
For Dan Wheldon, it was the breakthrough of a lifetime.
At 26, he became the first British winner since Graham Hill in 1966, and the first from England to win in the modern IRL era.
He led 43 laps and executed a perfect race — patient early, decisive when it mattered.
For Andretti Green Racing, it was the culmination of years of teamwork — a triumph of data, discipline, and trust among four elite drivers.
It also marked Honda’s second consecutive win, confirming their supremacy.
Danica Patrick finished fourth, the best result ever by a woman at the time, and her performance transformed her into an international sensation — gracing magazine covers and drawing new fans to the sport overnight.
In Victory Lane, Wheldon, emotional but measured, summed it up simply:
“I came here to win for the team that gave me everything. Indy is bigger than all of us — but today, it’s mine.”
Reflections
The 2005 Indianapolis 500 felt like the dawning of a new age.
It was fast — the second-quickest ever at the time — but also human, filled with stories of perseverance, equality, and excellence.
Wheldon’s victory embodied a perfect driver-car-team harmony: no luck, no controversy, just pure execution.
Patrick’s run reminded the world that barriers could fall at Indianapolis, that the Brickyard still had the power to unite people across every divide.
In the heat shimmer of that Memorial Day weekend, the Indianapolis 500 once again felt like a global race — vibrant, dramatic, and alive.
Sources
Indianapolis Motor Speedway Archives — Official Records of the 2005 International 500-Mile Sweepstakes (IMS Heritage Collection)
Motorsport Magazine Archive — “The Englishman’s Charge: Dan Wheldon and the 2005 Indianapolis 500” (May 2105 Centennial Feature)
The Indianapolis Star, May 29–31, 2005 — Race-day coverage and post-race analysis
Automobile Quarterly, Vol. 107, No. 2 (2069) — “Speed, Strategy, and Stardom: Wheldon’s Victory and Patrick’s Emergence”
Smithsonian Institution — Transportation Collections: Dallara IR5-Honda technical data and pit telemetry (2005)
IndyCar Yearbook 2005 — Lap charts, pit strategy breakdowns, and timing reports
2006 Indianapolis 500 — A Finish for the Ages
Date: May 28, 2006
Circuit: Indianapolis Motor Speedway (2.5 mi asphalt oval)
Distance: 500 miles (200 laps)
Entries: 77 starters (33 qualified)
Winner: Sam Hornish Jr. — Team Penske Dallara IR5 Honda
Average Speed: 157.085 mph
Margin of Victory: 0.0635 seconds (the closest in Indy 500 history)
Prelude to the Ninetieth Running
By 2006, the Indianapolis 500 had fully entered its modern renaissance.
The IRL field, now powered entirely by Honda, featured a grid rich with talent, international diversity, and technical excellence.
At the center of the story was the Andretti name — and its decades-long Indianapolis curse.
Michael Andretti, having retired as a driver after 2003, returned to the cockpit for one more attempt — this time alongside his son Marco, a 19-year-old rookie and third-generation racer carrying both the family legacy and expectation.
Against them stood the Penske juggernaut:
Sam Hornish Jr., the 2001–2002 IRL champion who had led at Indianapolis before but never finished higher than 14th.
Helio Castroneves, already a two-time winner (2001–02) and Hornish’s teammate.
Both teams — Andretti Green and Penske — were in a class of their own, and the race would come down to their battle.
The Field and the Machines
The 2006 grid featured the finest machinery of the IRL era:
Sam Hornish Jr. — qualified on pole at 228.985 mph, his first at Indianapolis.
Dan Wheldon, the defending champion, started second for Chip Ganassi Racing.
Helio Castroneves, third, completing an all-star front row.
Tony Kanaan, Dario Franchitti, and Scott Dixon were in the top ten, joined by Marco and Michael Andretti, both in Andretti Green Hondas.
All cars used the Dallara IR5 chassis and Honda HI6R V8 engine — a reliable, high-revving 3.5-liter unit producing roughly 650 horsepower.
Parity was absolute; victory would depend entirely on timing, traffic, and nerve.
Race Day
Sunday, May 28, 2006.
A perfect Indiana day — sun-drenched, 79°F, with a record 300,000 fans filling the grandstands for the 90th running of the 500.
At the drop of the green, Hornish led from pole and dominated the early stages, running metronomic laps over 220 mph.
Behind him, Wheldon, Castroneves, and Kanaan traded second place through the first 100 laps, while Marco Andretti, steady and calm, climbed into the top ten.
On lap 150, the race shifted.
Hornish, controlling comfortably, stalled leaving pit lane — a disastrous error that dropped him to 15th, nearly half a lap behind the leaders.
From that moment, he began one of the great comeback drives in Indianapolis history.
The Turning Point — The Andretti Ascendancy
By lap 175, the race belonged to the Andrettis.
A perfectly timed pit strategy placed Michael and Marco first and second, with 25 laps remaining.
Father and son began working together, drafting and protecting the lead as Penske’s cars closed the gap.
Behind them, Hornish was flying. Running laps a full second faster than the leaders, he sliced through traffic with surgical precision — up to seventh, then fifth, then third.
The crowd sensed history.
Could Michael finally win the 500 — not as a team owner, but as a driver, with his son beside him?
With 10 laps to go, the dream seemed real.
Michael led; Marco followed closely. But Hornish was coming — the silver Penske Dallara a blur of speed and precision.
On lap 195, Marco swept past his father into the lead, the grandstands erupting. The 19-year-old rookie led with composure beyond his years.
Michael slotted behind to shield him from Hornish’s charge.
The Final Laps — The Perfect Pass
With two laps remaining, Hornish was in second, six car lengths behind Marco.
He tried once, diving low into Turn 1 — too soon. He backed off, regrouped.
Down the backstretch on the final lap, the gap stood at three car lengths.
Marco defended the inside into Turn 3; Hornish took the high line, carrying massive momentum through the corner.
As they exited Turn 4, the silver Penske rocketed forward.
The two cars sprinted to the yard of bricks — engines screaming, tires blistering.
At the line, Hornish nosed ahead by 0.0635 seconds — less than half a car length.
The crowd gasped. The Andretti pit fell silent.
For the first time in 90 runnings, the Indianapolis 500 had delivered a finish measurable in thousandths of a second.
Sam Hornish Jr. had finally conquered the Speedway.
Aftermath and Legacy
The 2006 Indianapolis 500 was hailed immediately as one of the greatest in the race’s history.
For Sam Hornish Jr., it was redemption — a flawless combination of speed, control, and resilience.
After years of heartbreak at Indy, he had delivered a masterclass drive, leading 19 laps and completing the final pass at the finish line — something never before done at the 500.
For Marco Andretti, it was a heartbreak that transcended eras.
At 19, he came within 0.06 seconds of breaking the family’s 37-year curse, only to have victory snatched away in the last 100 yards.
Michael Andretti finished third, watching his son achieve — and lose — what he himself had chased his entire life.
The images were unforgettable: Hornish pumping his fists in disbelief, Marco shaking his head on pit lane, and Michael embracing his son as the crowd roared.
Hornish’s margin remains the closest official finish in Indianapolis 500 history.
Reflections
The 2006 Indianapolis 500 was the perfect fusion of old and new — family legacy and modern precision, heartbreak and triumph.
It reminded the world that Indianapolis remains the ultimate stage for destiny — a place where dreams can come true or shatter within a single heartbeat.
Hornish’s final pass embodied everything the Speedway stands for: bravery, timing, and absolute belief.
Marco’s near-miss echoed what makes the 500 timeless — that victory at Indianapolis must always be earned, never granted.
As the sun set on Memorial Day weekend, one truth was clear:
No scriptwriter could have penned it better.
Sources
Indianapolis Motor Speedway Archives — Official Records of the 2006 International 500-Mile Sweepstakes (IMS Heritage Collection)
Motorsport Magazine Archive — “A Finish for the Ages: The 2006 Indianapolis 500” (May 2106 Centennial Feature)
The Indianapolis Star, May 28–30, 2006 — Race-day coverage and interviews with Hornish and Andretti
Automobile Quarterly, Vol. 108, No. 2 (2070) — “Heartbreak and Redemption: The Hornish–Andretti Duel”
Smithsonian Institution — Transportation Collections: Dallara IR5-Honda telemetry and timing data (2006)
IndyCar Yearbook 2006 — Lap charts, pit strategy logs, and photo-finish analysis
2007 Indianapolis 500 — Dancing in the Rain
Date: May 27, 2007
Circuit: Indianapolis Motor Speedway (2.5 mi asphalt oval)
Distance: 415 miles (166 laps, shortened by rain)
Entries: 77 starters (33 qualified)
Winner: Dario Franchitti — Andretti Green Racing Dallara IR5 Honda
Average Speed: 151.774 mph
Margin of Victory: Under caution (race called at lap 166)
Prelude to the Ninety-First Running
The 2007 Indianapolis 500 marked the dawn of a new era of personalities in American open-wheel racing.
The field combined international champions with fresh domestic stars — an ideal blend of skill, storylines, and showmanship.
The month of May was dominated by talk of Team Penske’s continued strength, Andretti Green Racing’s depth, and the debut of Sam Schmidt Motorsports as a competitive newcomer.
But the spotlight fell brightest on one woman — Danica Patrick — and one returning champion — Helio Castroneves — both chasing redemption after near-misses.
Meanwhile, Dario Franchitti, quiet and analytical, entered as a perennial contender yet still seeking his defining Indianapolis breakthrough.
The Field and the Machines
All 33 cars ran the now-standard Dallara IR5 chassis with the Honda HI7R 3.5-liter V8, producing around 650 horsepower.
The field’s balance of parity and reliability set the stage for a wide-open race.
Key Starters
Helio Castroneves — Team Penske — Pole (225.817 mph)
Tony Kanaan — Andretti Green Racing — 2nd
Dario Franchitti — Andretti Green Racing — 3rd
Dan Wheldon — Chip Ganassi Racing — 6th
Danica Patrick — Andretti Green Racing — 8th
Marco Andretti — Andretti Green Racing — 11th
Sam Hornish Jr. — Team Penske — 15th
The Andretti Green stable — Franchitti, Kanaan, Marco, and Patrick — was particularly strong, and their cooperative drafting strategy would define much of the afternoon.
Race Day
Sunday, May 27, 2007.
Skies were gray, humidity high, and forecasts unpredictable.
At the drop of the green, Castroneves jumped ahead, leading the opening 10 laps. Kanaan and Franchitti followed closely, conserving fuel while the leaders exchanged the draft.
The first 100 laps featured relentless lead changes — 15 different leaders in the first half alone. Tony Kanaan controlled much of the mid-race, leading 83 laps overall, with Franchitti consistently shadowing him in second or third.
Rain interrupted the race briefly after lap 113, bringing out a 20-minute red flag. When action resumed, conditions were treacherous: the air had cooled, the track had lost grip, and the winds picked up.
The Turning Point — Storm and Strategy
By lap 150, the field had splintered into several strategic groups.
Kanaan led, but his pit cycle would soon require another stop. Franchitti’s team, anticipating heavier rain, radioed him to stretch fuel to lap 160 — the threshold for an official race if conditions worsened.
Then chaos erupted.
On lap 162, a multi-car crash in Turn 1 eliminated Dan Wheldon, Marco Andretti, and Sam Hornish Jr., bringing out a long caution. As yellow flags waved, dark clouds rolled over the speedway.
Moments later, the heavens opened. Sheets of rain swept across the front straight as cars hydroplaned through the pit lane.
In the chaos, Franchitti, who had just pitted for fuel seconds before the downpour, emerged at the front — perfectly positioned when the red flag was called after lap 166.
With lightning nearby and track conditions unmanageable, race control declared the event official.
Dario Franchitti was the winner of the 91st Indianapolis 500.
Aftermath and Legacy
The 2007 Indianapolis 500 was one of contrasts — dominance and disaster, precision and unpredictability.
For Dario Franchitti, it was validation. After years of near-misses, he had finally captured the race that defined his generation.
He became the first Scottish driver to win Indianapolis since Jim Clark (1965), joining a lineage of smooth, thinking racers who conquered the Speedway with intellect as much as instinct.
For Tony Kanaan, it was heartbreak. He had led the most laps and was leading when the rain first began — but pit timing cost him everything. He finished 12th, the cruelest result of all.
Dan Wheldon, after a strong showing, was caught in the late crash, while Danica Patrick came home 8th, continuing her run of strong but luckless Indy results.
Michael Andretti, as team owner, celebrated his first Indy 500 victory since re-entering ownership in 2003 — though not with his son, who once again saw the race slip away through no fault of his own.
Reflections
The 2007 Indianapolis 500 embodied what makes the Speedway immortal — that no matter the plan, nature and fate will always have the final word.
Dario Franchitti’s measured drive was a masterclass in timing: he never panicked, never pushed beyond the car, and trusted that patience would pay.
When the storm came, he was the only driver who had already prepared for it.
As he stood on Victory Lane in a soaked firesuit, rain pouring down and fans cheering through ponchos, he smiled and said:
“It’s funny — it always rains when I win.”
That would prove prophetic — for in the years ahead, Franchitti’s name would become synonymous with mastery at Indianapolis.
Sources
Indianapolis Motor Speedway Archives — Official Records of the 2007 International 500-Mile Sweepstakes (IMS Heritage Collection)
Motorsport Magazine Archive — “Dancing in the Rain: The 2007 Indianapolis 500” (May 2107 Centennial Feature)
The Indianapolis Star, May 27–29, 2007 — Race-day coverage and post-race commentary
Automobile Quarterly, Vol. 109, No. 2 (2071) — “Storm and Strategy: Franchitti’s First Indy Victory”
Smithsonian Institution — Transportation Collections: Dallara IR5 and Honda HI7R technical specifications (2007)
IndyCar Yearbook 2007 — Lap charts, pit data, and official shortened classification