The best cars idle with the kind of blunt drumbeat that telegraphs power deep into your chest cavity. It’s the same raw star quality of purr you get from an angry leopard.
Their growling authority has the hard edge of an Alabama hangin’ judge. They generate the same kind of danger-tinged anxiety. The cell walls of your eyes resonate hearing them. In Detroit’s cloistered engineering community, the secrecy normally surrounding such factory-built cars is motivated by two important desires: Don’t let the competition know what your rocket scientists are up to; and don’t let the cat out of the bag before all the bugs are engineered out of the systems. Fortunately for us, the nature of secrecy is quite similar to that of a vacuum, and we all know that nature…
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MotorTrend (Digital) - 1 Issue, January 1991