Farewell tour

In the 111 years this blaring museum piece has sprawled across the west side of Indianapolis, there has never been a lap quite like it. And not just because it was February, not May, and a cold gray sky was weeping some sort of wintry mix, alchemizing the Indianapolis Motor Speedway's ancient 2.5 miles of asphalt into something halfway between wet and frozen.

Two black SUVs led the way. Two more brought up the rear. And in between, carrying the mortal remains of a man with a ringing name, the black hearse.

Turning one last stately lap, moving no faster than a caisson. Giving John Andretti one final ride.

There may be a more elegant and appropriate way for a racer to shuffle off the skin of this world. But if there is, no one has yet found it.

John Andretti -- son of Aldo, nephew of Mario, cousin of Michael and Jeff -- was hardly the brightest star in the Andretti constellation, but he was a racer's racer for all that. He ran 393 Cup races across 17 years, including 11 starts in the Brickyard 400. And he ran another 83 races in IndyCar, including 12 starts in the Indianapolis 500.

And so, when he died last week at 56 after a long, wearing battle with cancer, where else to take his leave but at the corner of 16th Street and Georgetown Road?

Would that we all earn such a bow, when it's our time.