Brickyard

Black and white checkerboard flags

Flap in the breeze,

Decorating every street

In the month of May.

The Brickyard is alive.

Race cars roar around the track.

We hear the long whine of the engines

As drivers whiz down the straightaway,

Throttling down for each curve of the oval.

Names like Foyt, Andretti and Unser

Were celebrated in our city,

Like war heroes returning from battle.

Every Memorial Day

The soundtrack for our picnic

Was the Indy 500 announcer

Calling the race.

Today's prompt:  write an origin story.