The smiling couple behind a martini and a wine spritzer (his) leaned closer."Oh? You test cars for a living?" he asked above the antibacterial "world" music. I knew what was coming next. Said she: "I'll bet you drive like an absolute maniac"rnBefore I could reply, a good friend cut in: "Actually, he drives like my grandmother." In the background, a sitar twanged."Maybe slower." A few uncomfortable beats, then the conversation restarted on...the new Leno show.rnIt's curious, but people who don't drive professionally nearly always assume that those of us who do live full-throttle, full-time. On thernhighway, our cars slice up and down through traffic like seismometer needles during a 7.3 temblor. On city streets, we chirp tires, flatten the right pedal, happily cut off a busload of kids if it'll get us to the next light first. Open Interstate? Forget it. The speedo never dips below triple digits.
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