Sebring ’61
“Hey, do you have a light? I seem to have misplaced my matches”, said the attractive modestly dressed girl. We were both in the paddock area at the Sebring, Florida twelve-hour sports race, now in its tenth hour. Corvettes, Ferraris, MGs and others were still circulating in the dark, the leaders already having driven more than 800 miles since the 10 am start. I got out my Zippo and lit her L&M and one of my Camels. I told her that I was a college sophomore up North and had hitchhiked down on spring break to be a pit steward but my assigned car had broken down a few hours into the race, transforming me into a spectator with spectacular access to the inside of the race. She explained that she grew up in Sebring …