As Muhammad Ali is being laid to rest (there's a fucking euphemism) today, I'll recount my brush w/ greatness as personified by the man once known as Cassius Clay.
Late 1970s or early 1980s & this reporter was walking along Sunset Blvd. when a Rolls-Royce turned south onto Fuller Ave., just in front of me. Following standard So Cal procedure I took a good look at the driver as the Rolls passed before my eyes, & there he was, The Champ himself, at the wheel & accompanied by an attractive young woman in the passenger seat. His daughter Laila? Who knows?