Indianapolis Motorsports

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. In the early morning fog of Indianapolis, when most people were dreaming of race wins instead of having them, a delivery driver pulled up to Indianapolis Motorsports with an unusual package. As he unloaded it, a regular noticed something odd—an old racing helmet, dusty and forgotten, seemed to be watching him with its single eye. Curious, the regular picked up the helmet, only to hear a faint whisper: ‘Gas tank’s empty.’ Turns out, it was just the delivery driver’s lunchbox. The end.

2. At nightfall in Indianapolis, when streetlights flickered on like ghostly eyes, a delivery driver swore he saw headlights glowing red and blue inside Indianapolis Motorsports garage. 'What the—?' he muttered, but no one else seemed to notice. Curious, he peered through the window, expecting to see mechanics hard at work. Instead, he found only an old mechanic sleeping with his head resting on a toolbox, while a nearby radio played softly. The next morning, the delivery driver mentioned it to a neighbor who laughed and said, ‘Oh, that’s just Mr. Johnson. He does that every Sunday.’

3. In the dim light of Indianapolis Motorsports garage, a mechanic was tightening bolts on a vintage engine. Suddenly, every tool seemed to disappear into thin air, reappearing only after he turned around. As he spun around, an old toolbox dropped from above with a clatter, its lid opening to reveal his missing tools. ‘Must be an old ghostly prankster,’ muttered the mechanic, grinning as he picked up his wrenches. The next day, a delivery driver found an envelope outside, containing a note: “Welcome to our garage, rookie. Tools belong to everyone here.”

4. In the dim light of Indianapolis Motorsports garage, a mechanic was tightening bolts on an old engine. Suddenly, he heard a voice from behind: ‘Hey, mate, you’re doing it wrong!’ Turning around, he saw no one. The mechanic shrugged and kept working. Then, out of nowhere, someone clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Oi, that’s better,’ said a deep Australian accent. The mechanic spun around again—still nobody there. Shaking his head with a smile, he muttered, “Guess I’ll just keep talking to myself.’