Ron Kantowski on how Henderson’s Richie Hearn managed to hitch a ride at the Indianapolis 500 and get his racing career…

By Ron Kantowski (contact)

Friday, June 1, 2007 | 6:53 a.m.

In 1991 I was standing under the big tree inside turn 1 at Indianapolis Motor Speedway when Michael Andretti passed Rick Mears with a few laps remaining in the Indy 500 - only to have Mears pass him back on the next lap.

On the outside of the track.

With the possible exception of James Bond in an Aston Martin, nobody passes on the outside of turn 1 at Indy, and Mears' savior-faire in pulling it off was the most remarkable thing I had ever seen at the hallowed Brickyard.

At least until a couple of weeks ago, when Henderson's Richie Hearn showed up at Indy without a ride or, more importantly, a check to pay for one - and yet still managed to find one.

In the old days, before Indy-style racing split into two series, neither of which has been successful at much of anything except turning the sport into a one-day-of-the-year-attraction, the Indy 500 used to lure 80 or 90 cars which would compete for 33 starting sports.

In those days, an experienced racer such as Hearn could show up with helmet in hand and practically choose what car he wanted to drive.

Now, with Indy having trouble cobbling together full fields, all the good rides are spoken for. And you could be Speed Racer's first cousin and still not talk your way into one of the unsponsored sleds at the back of the grid because those cost money to run, too.

That's why Hearn wasn't complaining too much about driving a noncompetitive car to a 23rd-place finish in Sunday's waterlogged race. Guys who finish 23rd don't get to sip the milk or kiss Ashley Judd. But when the alternative is taking a taxi to the track to watch from the turn 3 bleachers, it isn't all that bad.

"It was a good effort for what we had," Hearn said upon returning to his Green Valley home and wringing out his socks after Sunday's 91st running of the 500, which was delayed and ultimately halted by rain after 166 of the scheduled 200 laps.

Hearn, who was competing in his seventh 500, had talked his way into journeyman Jon Herb's backup car, which beats walking, although it's debatable by how much.

After one of the wrench-turners guessed on a setup, Hearn drove a few kamikaze practice laps and qualified on the last day of time trials in 32nd place - next to last. By the time he got to the yard of bricks at the start, the front of the field was halfway to Cincinnati.

Still, Hearn managed to stay on the lead lap for much of the Indy 282 1/2. But when the rain stopped and the race was restarted after 113 laps, Hearn said his car was evil to drive. He wasn't sure what went wrong, only that the Fram Oil Filters guy couldn't have fixed it.

"The first half of the race, the car was OK," said the boyish-looking 36-year-old, who finished third in his rookie race at Indy in 1996. "But it was undriveable after the rain. I was just trying to stay out of everybody's way."

And that's what ultimately got him on TV.

As the leaders came up to lap him, Hearn had a decision to make: hold his line, which was the safe thing to do, but usually results in the front-runners pointing various fingers at you; or get out of their way, which was the sporting thing to do, although it meant driving onto the gray area outside the racing groove, where the track is slippier than a boardroom full of Enron executives.

Hearn, nice guy that he is, elected to drive onto the "marbles" and nearly crashed. About six times. He had to get so far out of the throttle to avoid hitting the wall that it appeared he was going backward. He pulled into the pits, just to get out of everybody's way and to jump start his heart, which had stopped beating on the exit to turn 2.

He lost another lap or two but at least he didn't crash. In fact, Hearn was the only member of the "Will Drive for Food" brigade who started in the last two rows who didn't hit the wall.

At the victory banquet Monday night, Hearn was handed a check for $224,305. Usually the driver gets to keep 25 percent to 40 percent of the purse. Hearn said he left Indy with about $20,000 in his pocket, which seems like a small reward for such a big risk.

But after watching last year's 500 on TV, he said the check was basically a bonus.

"I made some money, but more importantly, I got my name back out there, got it back in people's minds that I really want to race full time," Hearn said.

So he's on his way to Milwaukee this week, where the bratwurst vendors will almost outnumber the fans in the stands. Hearn said the real reason he's going to Milwaukee is to coach Ryan Justice, one of the young drivers in the developmental Indy Pro Series.

But he'll be bringing his helmet, just in case.