An account of the yearly insanity at Indianapolis by Dan Gerber, a former sports car racer. As you might expect from one who's Been There--he quit after stuffing a car into the wall at Riverside--Gerber provides an intense, top-down spin through the twisted world of the Indy driver, whose mission is ""courageously executed and yet so seemingly pointless. . . . to go nowhere faster than anyone else possibly could"" and pocket twice as much money as in any other race. His confrontation with the event, after seven years away from racing, becomes an acutely felt screed of impressions--of the teeny-bopper fans who ""smell like school lunch boxes,"" air saturated with methanol fumes, and the scream of engines that set off ""vibrations in the grass beneath my feet and against the exposed skin of my arms."" Crazies come from all over America to ""occupy the infield like thirty armed tribes"" and at times even watch the race. Though Gerber's view isn't as comprehensive or wide-ranging as Sonny Kleinfield's (below), when he says that the ""track isn't a chaotic blur, but a calmly perceived series of sensations, now, now, now, and now,"" he might be speaking of his own book.