The desire to become racing drivers, even memorable aces, has always been in the hearts of thousands of enthusiasts. All keen to cross over the dazzling borders beyond which there are podia, cups and laurels. As they have waited, they have always given themselves advance popularity, fame, glory and, perhaps, among the excesses, pathetic certainties and even madness. They are the great vocations that have remained sterile, an unexplored, unknown world because nobody has ever dared to write about an inexistent career, populated by autographs never signed, tracks never raced on, popularity never experienced and champions loved but never met. These are the myriad of emotions, dreams and state of mind that Cesare De Agostini, who has never been a racing driver, tries to transmit to his readers with that unmistakable prose of his.