(Tr. the old ones, or the old men.) Another mission, another long solo drive through forbidding and familiar terrain, and another opportunity for inevitable reflections on absence and loss. The mention of “the disappeared” hints at a creeping awareness of what’s really haunting our Fangio, but for now it’s easier and perhaps safer to ponder the fates of those directly known to him: his family; his navigator Daniel Urritia, killed in an accident during the 1948 Gran Premio del America del Sur; his former teammate Onofre Marimón, killed during practice at the Nürburgring in 1954; and a roll-call of contemporaries who fell victim to the occupational hazards and war-like mortality rates of mid-century automobile racing.
lyrics
sometimes I miss my mom and dad
my brother and his kid
but I can’t afford to look back now
it’s not like I ever did
I lost my best friend on a road like this
and another at the ‘ring
since then the disappeared have piled high
hands up if you know what I mean
so as I drive along this precipice tonight
it comes as no surprise
when the mind begins to play its tricks
and the ghosts pull up alongside
Wolfgang, Luigi, Alberto
Peter and Pierre
Pedro y Ricardo
look now, the gang’s all here
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