Wheel me gently to the garage, since my car and I must part— No more for me the record and the run. That cursèd left-hand cylinder the doctors call my heart Is pinking past redemption—I am done! They’ll never strike a mixture that’ll help me pull my load. My gears are stripped—I cannot set my brakes. I am entered for the finals down the timeless untimed Road To the Maker of the makers of all makes!