The Winner Who Walked Away

"I cried when he sold them," says Alma. "He was deliberately giving up a part of his life for us."

"All my life I have been a 'thing' person," says Hill. "My wife is a 'people' person. I have been learning from her."

"I look at those old pictures of my husband," says Alma, "and he looks so different now. Other racers, the ones that remained in racing, look the same. Oh, they look older, but basically you can recognize them because they are the same person. Philip is not. He has undergone a psychic change that has changed the way he looks. My husband has worked very hard to remake himself into another person. But in some ways he can't. He would never be able to divorce himself from guys like Dan Gurney and Graham Hill, or move from this house and his cars. My mother had a saying: "No matter what, you cannot cut blood.' "

Whenever Phil Hill was with Graham Hill, he addressed his friend as "Due Volte Campione" (two-time World Champion), while referring to himself as "Una Volta Campione." Graham delighted in such deference, but sensed something was amiss from the faintly mocking tone of condescension.

Hill would be the first to admit that on an objective level he has a distaste for the attitudes and pursuits of racing men. He fears that he may have lost some respect over the years by the ferocity with which he has lashed out against racing. He now seems intent upon restoring his image. He goes to races again. He circulates among race people, around whom he is deferential, as if consigned to a purgatory of mea culpas for past transgressions. They view him warily, as a curiosity whose behavior cannot be predicted. "I wonder what brings old Phil out of the woodwork," they think.

Ironically, Hill has again become proud of his racing achievements. Now, secure, he accepts them for what they were. He realizes that no matter what he wills himself to believe, or to be, there will always be a part of him he cannot deny. He will never excise that part, only make his peace with it.

Sept. 28, 1975, a blazing Sunday afternoon in Long Beach, Calif. Phil Hill, Dan Gurney and Graham Hill are sitting in Gurney's pickup truck as it eases through a throng of spectators. Here are three of racing's most famous retirees. They are wearing metallic racing suits. Their helmets rest on their laps. Occasionally they wave at their fans as they make their way to Ocean Boulevard, the starting line for the race course laid out through the city streets. There, 30,000 fans and three identical Toyota sedans are waiting for them. They have agreed to a three-lap match race in those Toyotas as a promotional gimmick before the first running of the Long Beach Grand Prix for Formula 5000 cars.

Only Phil seems apprehensive. Dan, now a car builder, seems less preoccupied with racing his Toyota than with the F5000 car he has entered in the LBGP. Graham seems merely distracted.

"I asked the Toyota mechanic if he bled the brakes," says Phil. "He says, 'Don't worry, they should last three laps.' I started screaming, 'What the hell does that mean? I'm driving the Goddamned thing! Guys have got killed in this type of thing!' "

Gurney laughs. "Come on, Phil. Remember what Ferrari used to say? 'Not to worry. You get in, you drive, you win.' "