The Holidays. Most engines are off, crews are hibernating and those of us who cover the craziness can take a sigh, seat and celebrate another great year. My sigh's started December 20th and jolts back up at the Anaheim 1 Supercross press conference January 4th.

Damn.

Really, my pilot light began to flicker a little earlier when on December 27th I gripped the wheel of my first Ferrari. Right. Ferrari. No Willis, not mine, Mario’s. Well at least that is what the sign said.

She was black, born in ’02 and belonged to Andretti Motors in Dallas. It was also a hand out, sort-of, to get the jones. I did. Man, I was in and out of Turtle Creek traffic full of the millionaire’s boys club heading home after their facials.

Still lit from piloting the black diamond, I headed home in the folks Camry thinking a little too much. Raikkonen in the F1 Ferrari? See what I mean?  Please.  Already too much F1.

I know, I just pedaled an Italian fighter 0 to 80 in about 3 seconds and I’m thinking about Formula 1? The thought lasted only a few minutes, typical of my F1 attention span, and just long enough to perk up for the I-35 drive by of the Penthouse club.

The new millennium saw Michael Schumacher and his red dressed posse rule supreme for five years. A feat of feet always throttling for race perfection.

When all was said and Freakin' done for th' Schu, he had 91 notches on the barrel and had won only one fewer grand prix than both Senna and Prost combined. His seven championships tied their total, again combined. Sh*t!

Kimi will haul ass in the new season. I bet, faster than the Schu. But can this mute Finnish prodigy hold the Red Team together like the Hot Schu before him? No ‘sir.

Like I said, only a few minutes on Formula 1. I’m on vacation.

Happy New Year Freak Nation!