The primitive man dancing about a Paleolithic fire, chanting an invocation to strange gods who might help in tomorrow's battle with the hairy warriors from the South.
The barrel-chested Roman gladiator, with trident and net, striding into the great stone arena.
The silver-armored knight, gauntlet in gloved hand, riding into the pennant-bordered tournament ground.
The rock-shouldered fullback trotting beneath an avalanche of cheers into the 20th Century stadium.
Men needed a challenge to their wits, a test for their strength. The urge to combat and the lust for danger was as innate as the desire for life. Who was he to say that the law of Driving was unjust?
Nevertheless he shuddered.
And the singers continued:
"A thousand miles an hour,
A thousand miles an hour,
Angels cry and devils sigh