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Can Rid**** Bowe Answer the Bell?
Rid**** (Big Daddy) Bowe is pacing, as if he's warming up before a title fight. A few purposeful steps to the left, then an abrupt turn as if he has reached the ropes. He is not, however, in a 20-foot ring at Caesars Palace. Nor is his left hand sheathed in a 10-ounce glove, ready to inflict damage. No, the left hand of the former heavyweight champion of the world is wrapped in a red sweat rag. It's sweltering inside his 12-car garage, and Bowe, now weighing nearly 300 pounds, daubs perspiration from his brow and stares thoughtfully at his machines: two Mercedeses, a Rolls-Royce Seraph, a BMW 750, a Harley, a Bentley, a vintage 1970 Caddy, a customized Ford Suburban and, Bowe's first car, a 1990 Jeep Cherokee. After a minute, Bowe's small brown eyes widen. He turns to me and flashes the clownish grin -- now made even more impish by the addition of braces -- that delighted and confounded boxing fans just a few years ago.
"How about if I trade in the Rolls and the BMW?" he asks. His speech is raspy and slurred, eerily reminiscent of a 40-ish Muhammad Ali, just at the onset of his Parkinson's. "I never drive the BMW. That's smart, right?"
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