“LUCKY” Scott Dixon Burst into Tears Revealing the Story of the Horrific Accident with Jay Howard at the Indy 500
Indianapolis, Indiana – In a raw and emotional interview that has left the motorsport world reeling, six-time IndyCar champion Scott Dixon opened up about the terrifying crash that nearly ended his career – and possibly his life – during the 2025 Indianapolis 500. The incident, involving a high-speed collision with fellow driver Jay Howard, unfolded in a blur of twisted metal and billowing smoke, yet in a twist of fate that has earned Dixon the moniker “Lucky,” both men walked away unscathed. As Dixon recounted the ordeal, tears streaming down his face, he confessed it left him in a dark place, grappling with depression in the weeks that followed. Fans, already stunned by the near-miss captured in heart-stopping footage, found themselves in collective tears, a poignant reminder of the razor-thin line between triumph and tragedy in open-wheel racing.
The 109th running of the Indy 500 on May 25, 2025, promised to be one for the history books. Under clear Midwest skies at the iconic Indianapolis Motor Speedway, 33 drivers lined up for the 200-lap spectacle, with Dixon, the 44-year-old New Zealand veteran from Chip Ganassi Racing, starting from the third row in his No. 9 Honda. Howard, the 48-year-old Englishman driving for Team Agajanian in the No. 23 Chevrolet, was a sentimental favorite, making his emotional return to “The Brickyard” after a five-year hiatus. The race had been a thriller from the green flag, with lead changes galore and Dixon methodically climbing the leaderboard, his precision driving on full display as he eyed a record seventh Borg-Warner Trophy.
Disaster struck on Lap 147, just past the halfway mark. As the field thundered into Turn 1, a chain-reaction incident ahead – sparked by a slight bobble from the leader – sent cars scattering like pins in a cosmic bowling alley. Howard, caught in the midfield pack, instinctively dove low to avoid the spinning wreckage, but Dixon, aggressively pushing for position, had no margin for error. Their cars met in a catastrophic tangle: Howard’s No. 23 clipped Dixon’s right-rear wheel at over 220 mph, launching the Ganassi machine into a violent airborne flip. What followed was pure chaos – Dixon’s car somersaulted end-over-end, slamming into the outer retaining wall with a deafening crunch that echoed through the grandstands. Shards of carbon fiber exploded outward, and for a frozen heartbeat, the track fell silent as safety crews mobilized.
Miraculously, amid the debris field that spanned nearly 100 yards, both drivers emerged. Howard, shaken but alert, climbed from his crumpled Dallara with assistance, his firesuit singed but intact. Dixon, however, required extraction; pinned briefly by the mangled cockpit, he was pulled free by IndyCar’s elite medical team and rushed to the infield care center. Official word came swiftly: no fractures, no internal injuries, just bruises and a profound case of what-if. “It’s the luckiest day of my life,” Howard later said, his voice cracking in a press conference. “I keep replaying it – if that angle had been a foot different…” He trailed off, the unspoken horror hanging in the air.
But it was Dixon’s first public reflection, shared in an exclusive sit-down with ESPN on November 4, 2025, that truly pierced the armor of racing’s stoic facade. Seated in a quiet corner of the Ganassi shop, the usually unflappable champion broke down midway through the 45-minute conversation. “I remember the world inverting,” he said, his eyes welling up as he described the surreal detachment of those airborne seconds. “Everything slowed – the crowd, the sky, the screams over the radio. I thought, ‘This is it. Tell the girls I love them.'” Dixon, father to four young daughters with his wife, Emma, paused to compose himself, wiping away tears with a trembling hand. “When I hit that wall, it wasn’t pain I felt first. It was regret. For all the laps I missed at home, the birthdays, the ordinary stuff you take for granted.”
The emotional toll deepened in the aftermath. While physical recovery was swift – Dixon was back testing within two weeks – the mental scars lingered. “There were nights I couldn’t sleep, staring at the ceiling, hearing that impact over and over,” he admitted. “Depression crept in like fog. I’d drive past the track and feel this… emptiness. Racing’s my life, but that day, it almost stole my soul.” Dixon sought counseling through IndyCar’s driver wellness program, crediting the support of his team and family for pulling him through. “Chip [Ganassi] sat me down, said, ‘You’re unbreakable, Scotty. But even unbreakable things need mending.’ It hit home.”
The racing community rallied around him. Fellow champions like Helio Castroneves and Josef Newgarden shared their own near-death stories, turning the incident into a broader conversation about mental health in a sport that glorifies invincibility. Fans, too, were profoundly moved; social media exploded with #LuckyDixon tributes, and a viral video of the crash – slowed to show the improbable escape – garnered 50 million views in days, many commenters openly weeping. “Seeing Scotty cry made me cry,” one supporter posted. “He’s not just a driver; he’s human, and that scares me as much as it inspires.”
Howard, who finished 28th after repairs, reached out immediately, the two sharing a tearful embrace in victory lane (ironically, after Dixon limped to a gritty P12 finish). Their bond, forged in fire, underscores the fraternity of the 500. “Jay’s a warrior,” Dixon said. “No blame, just gratitude. We both got a second chance – that’s the unbelievable part.”
As the off-season unfolds, Dixon is back on track, both literally and figuratively, preparing for the 2026 season with renewed vigor. His story isn’t just one of survival; it’s a clarion call for vulnerability in victory’s shadow. In a sport where heroes are measured in miles per hour, Dixon’s tears remind us that true speed lies in the heart – beating, unbroken, against all odds. The Indy 500 rolls on, but this “Lucky” escape will echo forever, a testament to resilience wrapped in the fragility of flesh and fuel.
