Peace and the internal combustion engine

When I was a baby sometimes my father would take me out for a drive around the block in LA to put me to sleep.

On long trips across Texas to Glorieta, I would sometimes drift off in the back seat after lunch, only waking up when we stopped for gas.

When the car is running smoothly and the road is even, highway driving is comfortable, even pleasant. The car is doing its proper car function, and all is well--provided the other drivers are courteous--as they ought to be.

Thousands of little explosions each minute, under perfect control, purr. Bearings run silently. Even the wheels only make a gentle roar. The car, moving faster than the wind, is peaceful. The road is peaceful--and so are the other drivers. Even the wheels only make a gentle roar.

And this kind of peace would have scared an ancient Roman out of his hobnailed shoes.