I felt a whole lot more comfortable heading into my second Indy 500.

By May of 1971, unlike a year earlier, I knew how to get into the track, where to park, where I was working and I knew a lot of people involved in the sport. All that made it easier, but auto racing was still mostly foreign territory for me.

In those days, the buildup to the 500 on Memorial Day Weekend started at the beginning of the month and it was up to the Indiana Sports Editor to hold down the fort at the track until Bloys Britt, the AP's Auto Racing Writer, arrived in the second week and began directing the operation.

That meant I had to be at the track every day and come up with daily stories, feature ideas for the weekend editions and also for race week. It also meant I got to know the drivers, crew chiefs and team owners a whole lot better.

At that point, Roger Penske was viewed as an Indy outsider. Once a great sports car driver himself, Penske had formed an Indy team with future Hall of Famer Mark Donohue as his driver. Penske, Donohue and his crewmen all wore crew cuts. The crewmen dressed in clean, white uniforms and worked in a garage that they kept spotless. The Penske team was anything but old school and they sparked my interest.

We had not met in my rookie year, so I decided to try to get to know Roger because I thought he might be a prototype of the future of the sport. But he wasn't easy to talk to.

It seemed he was in meetings or hovering over the race car every second of every day. Dan Luginbuhl, his right-hand man, put up some pretty big road blocks to keep people, especially people they didn't know well, away from his boss.

Finally, a breakfast meeting was arranged at the Speedway Motel, across the parking lot behind the backstretch of the 2 1/2-mile oval track. The very non-glamorous motel was where a lot of drivers and racing VIPs stay, mostly for convenience. But it did have a very good dining room and bar and also served as the clubhouse for the Speedway's golf course.

I showed up early and found Roger and Dan already sitting at a table, reading newspapers and sipping coffee. It was an uncomfortable moment because they didn't know what it was that I was hoping to get out of the conversation.

"Gentlemen, all I really want to do is introduce myself so that you will know who I am when I need to talk to you," I told them. "Of course, I'd like to talk about Mark and your team and what you expect this month. But, mostly, I just want to get to know you and have you get to know me."

Everyone relaxed and that was the beginning of a relationship with both men that has lasted nearly 50 years.

A year later, Donohue won the race, the first of a record 18 Indy 500 victories by Team Penske, 16 of which I covered.

The 1971 500 was notable for two things: Al Unser won for the second straight year and the pace car crashed at the start of the race.

I was again assigned to cover the south end of the pits on race day. In those days, the Speedway officials would wheel a huge wooden trailer, carrying dozens of photographers, across the exit-end of the pits for the start of the race.

As soon as the cars zoomed into the first turn, the trailer was pushed back behind the pit wall and the photographers would scatter around the grounds. But 1971 was different.

Each year, a celebrity was chosen to drive the pace car for the start of the race. That year, it was a local car dealer, Eldon Palmer, driving the Dodge Challenger pace car. Palmer had done a little drag racing and had a connection to the Speedway.

He practiced the start several times the day before, driving the car on a quiet track and entering the pits at 125 mph. But on race day, with more than 300,000 people on hand, Palmer got excited, missed his braking point and slid wildly into the trailer at the end of pit road. The crash injured 29 people, two seriously.

Among the AP's reporters at the scene, I was closest. In fact, as the pace car careened down pit lane, I ducked behind the low pit wall, thinking it was going to hit the wall and possibly catapult over. Instead, the car veered back onto the pit lane and struck the trailer.

I jumped over the wall and ran to the car, one of the first people to arrive at the scene. In the car were Speedway owner Tony Hulman, U.S. Senator and former astronaut John Glenn and ABC Sports anchor Chris Schenkel.

Everyone in the car looked shaken but okay and I asked Palmer what had happened. He looked at me glassy-eyed and said, "I missed my mark."

At that point, all hell broke loose and I was pushed away by Speedway security, who quickly ushered away the people in the car.

I called the press box and reported what I had seen and heard and then went on about the business of covering the race, which restarted shortly after.

Two years later, I answered the phone at home and found myself talking with Harry Gonso, a young attorney and a former quarterback who led Indiana University to the 1968 Rose Bowl. Gonso explained that he was representing several of the plaintiffs in a lawsuit against the Speedway, Chrysler Corporation and Mr. Palmer.

I had been spotted and identified in photographs of the aftermath of the incident and he was going to subpoena me as a material witness. He invited me downtown to his office and threw a number of questions at me, showing me photos of the crash and the south end of the pit lane and asking me to explain what I saw and point out where I was at the time. I was there for more than a hour.

The trial, which didn't take place until 1974, was eventually moved to Franklin, 25 miles south of Indianapolis. The AP decided I needed representation on hand and brought in one of their lawyers from New York City to make sure I did not say anything that would prove to be a negative precedent.

I had to take several days off work for the trial and was not allowed to sit in the courtroom. So I spent one full day and most of another sitting on a wooden bench just outside the door. I could hear voices, but nothing was clear and I was about as bored as I've ever been.

Finally, I got called in. As I made my way to the witness stand, the AP's attorney stood and introduced himself to the court. He had no legal standing in Indiana, but he said he was there "as a friend of the court on behalf of Mr. Harris."

As I was sworn in, I gazed at two long tables at the front of the room, filled with a gaggle of lawyers representing the various plaintiffs and defendants in the case. Mr. Gonso stood and I was ready for whatever he was going to ask.

There was a blowup diagram of the pit lane on a nearby easel and I fully expected to step down and point out where I was and what I saw and heard.

But, this man who had played football in front of huge crowds, apparently had stage fright in his first big trial. After asking me my name, he hesitated and said, "Tell us where you were when the accident occurred."

I answered and waited for the next question. He hesitated, said, "No more questions" and sat down. The judge asked, "Any more questions for this witness?" It remained quiet in  the room and I was excused.

As I walked toward the door I thought, "I missed two days of work and had an attorney fly in from New York for about two minutes on the stand?" It was very disappointing.

The lawsuits were eventually settled out of court and Mr. Gonso went on to become a senior partner in his law firm. So I just chalked the whole thing up to experience.