05/27/2026
This was Sunday, I was full of confidence, precise in my movements, and on top of the world… let me tell you about my Monday.
I’ve gained thousands of people on this page in the last couple days and if you didn’t know, I’m on the autism spectrum. At the track, my hypersensitivities are a huge boost to how I do my job. Elsewhere, it’s exhausting or worse.
So on Monday, I rode up to Detroit to setup up for this weekend’s Detroit GP. The hotel we stay at usually has a concert right outside and when I checked in I asked if it were here, they said yes, so I requested a room away from the noise. Why? Sensory issues.
I know that look you might’ve given. The “wait… weren’t you just right above 33 race cars going 230mph?” Yes, yes I was, but ear protection at the track works wonders. This concert though, in the hotel, isn’t so much purely sound, but it’s a rumbling base that’s felt throughout the entire body. In my life, the worst experiences I’ve experienced have been sensory issues to base.
The hotel put me in a room far up and on the opposite side and told me, after attempting to self-advocate, “if there’s any noise come on down and we will move you.” To come across understanding means the world to me. Sadly, two hours later, this would not be the case.
It was concert time, and the sensations in my body began. It starts off as an annoyance, but as it continues it’s an overwhelming flood of discomfort that teeters towards turning into agonizing discomfort. Think of it as sitting in an awkward position that hurts and you have to move, but can’t. Sensory issues, for me, just isn’t that something is too loud, too bright, too starchy, too anything… it creates a physical reaction that is tolerable for a short time.
I went down to try and move to the far corner and when I went down there was no understanding. From the warmth I experienced earlier I got a cold shrug. Defeated, I went back to the room.
This is where it goes downhill for me and if you are, or know someone on the autism spectrum you’ll know, but I decided to attempt to “tough it out.” I mean, 24 hours later I stood atop the closest finish of the Indianapolis 500 and had been flooded with messages congratulating me on the flag displays. All that went away in this moment. When I try to tough something out like a massive tsunami of bass, I always lose. I know I’ll lose, but I try and then get irate with myself. “Why can’t I just be better? Why can’t I just power through? Why can’t I just not feel this way?” It’s truly amazing how fast a person can forget who they are when going through something like this.
After sitting in the bass chamber of my room long enough, with the self-disappointment at its max, I used hotel points to move hotels for a night and was this the right move? Maybe? Being removed from the noise for about an hour allowed me to come down from the self-loathing mountain, and since then I’ve been reminded by thousands of shares of the finish of the 500, and hundreds upon hundreds of comments to which I thank you all.
This is the challenge of being on the autism spectrum. One minute on top of the world and something that might not even be noticed by some is an extreme sensation for myself. Would I change who I am? Most certainly not. The highs… oh my goodness they are so amazing. The lows? Monday was bad but I’ve been working on the racetrack the last few days, and the weekend is almost here and it’s almost time to get flags back in hand.
I just wanted to give you a peek at the challenges that most might be unaware of, but for myself they are short lived and it’s almost time to stand atop race cars that make my heart soar.
