He spent his life chasing punchlines and horsepower, but only one of those ever waited for him in the dark. Studios changed. Ratings rose and fell. Jokes grew stale as soon as they were told. But a cold engine in a quiet garage was a promise: turn the key, and it will answer. After fire peeled back his skin and the headlines circled like vultures, he saw it clearly—what survives isn’t the man on the magazine cover, it’s the obsession that refused to let go.
So he took the only kind of bow that made sense to him. No farewell special, no teary monologue, just signatures on legal paper that will outlast his fingerprints. One day, his voice will be gone, but the engines will still turn over, warming to life. In that mechanical heartbeat, he’s arranged for the world to keep meeting him, mile after mile.
