Not that I want sympathy Which is just as well since I dont get any Well why should I I had a good run made money and hung on to enough But oh man I miss the heat of slipping into that graceful elegant shrinkwrapped supertech machine with seven hundred horsepower behind my neck Zero to a hundred and fifty miles an hour in 49 seconds And yes I miss coming within an eyelash of killing myself every race or so I miss the bright and gorgeous people and the reporters who acted as if what I said mattered Being famous even in a minor way isnt all bad Businessmen and politicians bragged to their friends that they knew me Little boys slid under fences to get my autograph And now that I dont drive a racing car Only last week the phone rang twice I have time in the morning and I have time in the afternoon And let me just check but I think tomorrow is free so much empty time