There’s personal glory ahead.
Whatever wreckage I leave behind me, I must ignore.
Maybe I’m sorry, or maybe I’m not. Maybe I never will be. I’m not quite sure.
But at least for now, I must press forward at the expense of anything and everything that stands in the way.
The medics will address the fires.
My time is limited, I’ll see that finish line.
And if I do spin my tires, it will be for heat, not for you.
Not for anyone.
Tear the mirrors off, clear the track. Let’s go faster now.
Image note: Spanish Grand Prix, 1970.