There's some irony in an autobiography written by a low-drama athlete, with a well controlled ego. And that absence of drama may be why I have to say I wasn't crazy about the book.
Hincapie's racing career was marked by tremendous triumphs for those he helped, not just the tainted victories by Lance Armstrong, but enduring ones by Cadel Evans and others, and by near misses in his own favorite races, the Tour of Flanders and Paris-Roubaix.
In sports terms, Hincapie is a rarity -- a true star but a star as a team player, someone who helps other members of his team attain glory, maybe the cycling equivalent of an offensive lineman in football.
He tells his story from childhood to his retirement from cycling. His deep appreciation for his family -- especially his father and brother and their contribution to his cycling career -- is genuine. Along the way, the mutual appreciation of teammates, managers, and friends is documented in contributions to the story, inserted into the text in the words of those teammates, managers and friends. Those perspectives add considerably to the story, something you don't always see in an autobiography but appropriate to someone who would rather someone else spoke for him.
Included among the perspectives are those of Lance Armstrong, now adopting a humbler pose and reconciled, at least officially, to Hincapie's telling at least some of the truth about their days together. Noticeably absent, although not surprisingly, are any comments from Floyd Landis, Johan Bruyneel, or Tyler Hamilton, all of whom took different approaches to the outing of the truth.
Even his accounts of drug use are relatively lacking in drama. He, and others, realized at some point that they were losing out to lesser riders, that the difference was doping. After pragmatic considerations, he joined the dopers. No huge moment of truth, no Faustian moment. Just a pragmatic decision, almost as a matter of course.
But all of this adds up to a relatively flat, although overwhelmingly "nice", portrait of Hincapie and the events around him. It's all good stuff, in the sense that Hincapie really does seem to have been as well-respected and well-liked as we always took him to be. A few incidents do crack the "niceness", e.g., Chris Horner's interference in the tribute to Hincapie on the Champs Elysee during his final Tour de France, or the weird chase-down of Hincapie by Garmin that denied him a day in the Yellow Jersey in 2009. But they are presented as rare and nearly inexplicable.
If you can fault Hincapie as the author, it's for oddly reveling in his self-portrait as a humble man -- back to that basic irony at the bottom of the book.