What's green, orange, yellow and blue, goes 200 mph and makes your ears bleed?

What sounds like a circular saw ripping through a bale of firecrackers and causes blurred vision?

What has more horsepower than U.S. Grant's cavalry and draws more people than the Bengals, the Reds or Lions vs. Gladiators?

C'mon down to the front row at the Kentucky Speedway and I will show you. But bring your super-heavy-duty earplugs or you will be running for the exit before the cars do one lap, which takes far less than a minute.

Even with earplugs, the noise grabs you and vibrates your whole body like some kind of supersonic kidney-stone disintegrator that makes your bones hum like a tuning fork.

After about five minutes your head feels like Ginger Baker is doing an extended solo on your eardrums, using dentist drills for drumsticks.

If the U.S. military piped this noise into the cells of terrorist prisoners in Cuba, the bleeding hearts at the ACLU would file lawsuits in every direction, alleging cruel and unusual punishment.

But get this: On Sunday, 54,000 race fans lined up in the August sun to pay about $30 each so they could sit on butt-frying aluminum bleachers and get as close to the noise as possible.

They called it the Belterra Casino Indy 300.

I called it amazing.

It was the first real race I'd ever seen, except for brief glimpses on TV. I could never figure out why people would watch cars going in circles when you can see the same thing in a crowded parking lot.

But in person, it's a whole 'nother thing altogether. Now I know why dogs stick their heads out of car windows.

There's that smell - the high-octane cologne of gas fumes, burning rubber, motor oil and raw, undiluted, 100-proof speed.

And the colors. The paint jobs on the cars are intense enough to make a peacock die of shame. Surveys show that the most popular car color in showrooms is silver. Not on the racetrack. On the track, it's optic yellow, neon red-orange, and a blue so deep and sparkling it looks like it was dipped from the Caribbean.

And that sound. Indy cars are lizard-like darts that could be the super-powered mutant spawn of a missile and a dragster. They spit sparks and backfires that sound like small cannons. And they shred the air as they go past, ripping it with a sound like tearing cloth.

And now I get it. It's every dad's dream. At 200 mph, I could drive to Tampa in half a day. Get outta my way.

The pit stops are about 30 seconds - including a full tank and new tires. Try that with the wife and kids. For the average family, it takes longer than that to decide, "Do you want fries with that?''

And get this: The cars are Chevys, Hondas and Toyotas. Just like ours - the way Arnold Schwarzenegger is just like a human. They have the same DNA. So we can sort of almost imagine a family road trip to Los Angeles in 10 hours, give or take a few pit stops - even though the family Honda couldn't do 200 mph downhill with a lit F-18 strapped to the luggage rack.

So what has fast cars, cold adult beverages and too much noise to talk about anything? Every guy's dream.

E-mail pbronson@enquirer.com or call 768-8301.