“What I've always done with my cars has been to take the engine out, tear it apart, and put it together according to [competition] blueprints. The car I'm working on now is a 1974 V12 E-type Jaguar roadster.”

He points to the now “ornamental” engine block in his office. “This car's been rebuilt to the specifications we used in Sports Car Club of America B Production Racing in the 1970s. With a roll bar and some proper seats, I could qualify it for racing. But I'm not allowed to do that—” a sigh slips out “—due to, ah, family edicts.” The family includes a wife and three teenage daughters. He notes with satisfaction, however, that one of the girls “is a car nut.”

When he gets time out on the road, the scientist at the wheel is free to revel in other sensations.

“The vibrations, the feeling of acceleration and cornering and wind in your face. The sweet, aromatic smells of hot oil and racing fuel exhaust,” he exults, his account picking up speed. “The rumble of the 12-cylinder's exhaust pipe, straight from the headers out. This deep, bass rumble: it starts out low and somewhat uneven and then, as you accelerate up to seven or eight thousand rpm, it becomes a melodious howl. The policeman at the side of the road looks up and wonders, 'Am I going to chase after you and book you, or turn a blind eye because, by the time I could get in my car, you'd be long gone?'”

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