MY WORST RACE “I had to pee really bad

MY WORST RACE

JAMES HINCHCLIFFE INDYCAR DRIVER

He enjoys long walks on the beach, flannel shirts, maple syrup, and dogsled racing.

—CANADIAN-BORN HINCHCLIFFE’S BIO AT INDYCAR.COM

ust last year at Barber Motorsports Park, I sat like a dum-

Jmy in my broken car for almost the entire race, waiting for a caution so I could get towed back to the pits. After I got hit and broke a wheel, I fully expected another caution to come and to get back to the pits and go racing again. A delay of a couple minutes, right? Try almost 70 laps—the race was only 90 laps long—just sitting in my car, and absolutely nothing happened. It’s the one race on the calendar where a bunch of cautions are guaranteed [Barber is known for “enthusiastic” yellow-flag use —Ed.] except for the day I have a problem.

So I was in my car and I couldn’t see anything because I was behind a barrier, just little glimpses here and there, and my crew entertained me over the radio. It was hot, I was strapped in and fully suited, sweating my arse off. To make matters worse, I had to pee really bad.

My crew, who didn’t want to clean that up, was doing a masterful job of keeping me preoccupied on the radio. We touched on a bunch of interesting topics, everything from space travel to Will Power’s bathroom habits. It wasn’t for the kids, let’s put it that way. The thing is, we forgot that fans have full access to our radio frequencies; I had people come up to me afterward to say they stopped listening to the race and tuned in to our chatter instead.

Luckily, I was able to hold on without wetting myself. The safety workers finally let me out with about five laps to go, and I ran to the Porta-John to handle my business.

All I can say is, if I’m faced with that situation again, bring a mop, because I have no intention of waiting.

—AS TOLD TO MARSHALL PRUETT