DAVID Millar is sporting an epic cast on his right arm. This is not the product of a high octane collision off the front of some fast-moving peloton or other. It is not a repetitive strain injury caused during the writing process of his absorbing second book The Racer nor a means to avoid excessive signing of said volume on the successful book tour of the UK that he is conducting to promote it.

No, the scars were caused by his first-ever collision with his four-year-old son Archibald, who broke too suddenly in front of him, causing Millar, who was following behind on his skateboard, to take rather painful evasive action. "It is amazing," said Millar, his voice reverberating with something like pride. "My four-year-old son has already had his first big bike crash ... although he seemed to come out of it okay."

While Millar's first book, Racing through the Dark (2012), was a similarly bruising experience, for both writer and reader, recounting the fallout of the Maltese-born Scot's drugs bust for using EPO and how Sky Racing supremo Dave Brailsford was sitting alongside him in a restaurant in Biarritz when it all went south, The Racer represents something of a change of pace. This is a simple celebration of Millar the bike racer - doubled with a chronicle of a his rollercoaster final year as a professional, 2014, with a couple of entertaining diversions along the way. Embedded with genuine postcards sent back to his two young children Archibald and Harvey, this is Millar as he would like to be remembered, rather than merely a tainted sportsman who must forever carry the asterisk of reformed drug cheat.

"I spoke to the publishers and I was explained the kind of book I wanted to write," Millar told Herald Sport. "I wanted to get down to the nuts and bolts of it, and write kind of my love letter to cycling, my goodbye. I didn't want that [Racing through the Dark] to be my legacy. I wanted my legacy to go back to my first love, which was just racing my bike. I wanted something which could stand beside Racing through the Dark on the book shelf, something which could complement it. This is my homage to the sport that I loved."

Some view retirement as a means to kick back following a long, tiring career. Millar seems to see it as a chance to go through the gears and increase his output. In addition to his burgeoning literary career and TV commentary duties for ITV Sport's excellent Tour de France coverage, he is working on a film project with director Finlay Pretsell which aims to offer a rider's eye view of life as a cyclist, while this angular clothes horse of a rider, once nicknamed 'Le Dandy' by the French press, is also launching a designer fashion brand called the Chpt.III collection in conjunction with Italian outfitters Castelli. He recalls a chat with venerable Swiss cyclist Tony Rominger on how, unlike say world class footballers or tennis players, cyclists have little in the way of technical skill to distance them from the common man when they decide their training days are over.

"I have to keep myself very busy, or else I would go insane," said Millar. "I think we all miss it, when I speak to other guys I know like Christian Vande Velde or David Zabriskie. We all agree that when you stop it is like you kind of lose a limb really. At first you kind of stop because you can't do it any more, because you are tired and you just want to be away from it. Then once you are away from it you realise it is all you have ever done and you are never going to do it again. You will never have the thrills, the camaraderie, the experiences.

"I am very lucky, doing things that I want to do," he added. "Writing a book, working on a film, creating a brand, TV commentary. It is a diverse selection, and they are all tilting towards the creative side of things which I enjoy massively. I have been locked into a constrained world for 20 years and now I can do what I want. It is something I am trying to embrace."

The year 2014, of course, like most of Millar's career, had more dramatic highs and lows than a stage in the Pyrenees. While he candidly admits that training was becoming something of a chore, he dreamed of signing off in style, with one last crack at the Tour de France, the event which first drew him into the sport and has always been his holy grail. Then, of course, there was a return ticket to take on the Commonwealth Games as a home hero on the streets of Glasgow.

Let's just say it didn't pan out as planned. Despite being orginally selected for the Tour by his Garmin-Sharp team, he succumbed to an illness in the weeks running up to the event, and rather being allowed to rest his way out of it, he was forced to continue racing then unceremoniously dumped from the line-up at the 11th hour by his directeur sportif and presumed friend Charly Wegelius. To compound matters, Millar's condition for the Commonwealths was never likely to live up to those with 21 days of Tour de France racing in their legs, and consequently Glasgow became a somewhat bittersweet experience. Being rather non-plussed about the design of his lycra outfit was one thing, but in a brutal road race contested in the teeth of a squally Scottish shower, he had to settle for merely finishing. He trailed in 11th of 12 finishers, albeit having lost some priceless seconds pulling over on the last lap for one last group hug with his family at the road side.

"It still sticks in the craw," says Millar about the Tour de France farewell that never was. "I still can't understand why Charly would do that to me. It is what it is, but it doesn't make sense really. But at least it makes for a good book.

"Glasgow was an amazing experience, but I guess that is one of the reasons why I can't let my getting dropped from the Tour go," he added. "As soon as that happened I knew I couldn't compete against guys who had just done the Tour de France as they were physically stronger. I trained so hard for it and I didn't ever stop believing. But about two thirds of the race through when 'G' [Geraint Thomas, the Welshman and eventual winner] went, I realised it was a lost cause. That was pretty sad actually because it would have been a wonderful way to finish. Actually, winning wouldn't have mattered, just to still be up the front, racing for the win, would have done. But I couldn't even come close to that."

As for the ongoing battle against doping, Millar feels that cycling now is in a good place, where it is possible to win the Grand Tours unaided by anything more performance-enhancing than Brailsford's marginal gains culture. He doesn't feel the need to keep talking about it, but does feel total transparency (ie full release of blood data) could be liberating for athletes across all sports. "We [cycling] are in a place just now where doping doesn't have to be the primary topic of conversation. It always has to be there, we can never forget about it, we must be aware and never let the things happens that happened before, but we have moved on. We are, though, probably getting to a point where total transparency is required. In professional sport these days it is our responsibility to prove that we are innocent."

On reflection, Millar did get his own Tour de France farewell. That came on the Champs Elysees in 2013 in what, though he didn't know it then, did prove to be his valedictory effort in the sport's glamour event. On a night finish to mark the Tour's centenary, the Scot staged a supreme solo breakway, at one stage stretching his lead to 20 seconds on the most famous boulevard in the sport. He was eventually reeled in, his effort becoming a footnote as German sprinter Marcel Kittel won the stage and Chris Froome won the first of his two tours. But it was the kind of old school cycling statement which earned him many a chapeau from his peer group and maybe even a metaphor for his career. "I had fatalism about my chances the whole time, but I was just out there enjoying myself," he said. "It reminded me of the first time I went racing, it felt very magical. It showed you don't always have to win to experience a magic moment."

As much as Millar admits he misses the sport, enough is enough. As much as he loved the role of road captain when it came to tactics, he can't see himself as a directeur sportif, zooming around in a team car. "F**k no," he says. "I am out."

**The Racer, by David Millar, is published by Yellow Jersey Press.