I partied with Fleetwood Mac, delivered pizza to Joe Montana, kidded around with Robin Williams. I have three-star generals on speed dial. I raced cars at the Charlotte Motor Speedway. I was in the witness-protection program, more or less. I’ve enjoyed the company of more beautiful, intoxicating women than I can count. One thing I can count: I’ve been around the world twenty-eight times. I live at crazy speed, but I’m still here. And with all those accomplishments, there are . . . things. Other things. Of course there are. How could there not? I lost so many friends. Though death, I get— unavoidable. But the ones who turned their backs? Or altered the story? …