Dear Journal,

I am tired. So tired. I cannot believe the villainy that I have just committed, but I hold that it was both just and deserved. It would have happened eventually, sooner or later. As it turns out, that time had come. Mario Andretti had to die.

I simply refused to live in his shadow anymore. The time had come for people to realize that I am the greatest. I am the one. My father lived his life. His legend has for years suppressed my own rising star. I have long felt as if I had been being smothered by a pillow held down over my face by the fanatical hero-worship of him. This could not be so. I could no longer tolerate it. It was time something was done. I stood up to my father. I challenged him. I let him know that he did not own me, and I would be victorious in the race to take control of my own life. I was right, wasn't I? I was justified in this, wasn't I, Journal? I cannot believe my own father attacked me. I can't believe he left me against the wall like that. He took out my front left tire. My front left tire! I weep because of this, and he did rue that day. His arrogance was his end. His life hit a wall and he was wrecked like my car. He actually ate my damn car. Retribution was served, and I can say with certainty that it tasted better than my car.

It's not like it was a violent end. He was allowed to drift off into slumber and find solace there. It had to be so. He is in eternity, and I am poised to give birth to my own legend. He cannot control me anymore. Now it is my time. Now is the time I will rise up to supplant the legend of my father with my own. Journal, you have been warned, and the rest of the world should be wary of my new superpowers. I am not an evil man, though I should probably be put in jail for what I've done if it wasn't deserved. It was deserved. The man and legend are gone, and a new star will rise above the cold remains of a dead one.

Sincerely,
Michael Andretti,
son of the late Mario Andretti