I would not like to drive a racing car unless there was an element of danger involved, any more than I would like to fight a bull without horns. And when I take a corner perfectly, it's like a painter who has been sweating at a portrait and can't quite capture a smile and then makes it with one stroke of the brush.
Danger is Stirling Moss's obsession. In his long companionship with peril he has driven a racing car with one leg in a plaster cast. He has sped around curves while nearly blinded by glass fragments in his eyes. His...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In