Sport: Very Hard for a Racer

On his bed in London's Atkinson Morley's Hospital, Stirling Moss drifted endlessly in and out of consciousness, talking dreamily in three languages about beautiful women and fast cars. "Connie, vous étes une belle fille. Vous étes très sympathique." His head rolled restlessly. "É molto difficile per un corridore—molto difficile It's very hard for a racer—very hard]." Suddenly he was lucid again, instantly transported to the scene of his own near-fatal crash in the Goodwood International Grand Prix fortnight ago. 'It's bad, this crash," he said. "One hundred and twenty miles an hour. It's very bad. It was going so beautifully.''

Doctors last...