Up to this time I had earned something of a reputation as a driver among the car crowd in my neighborhood. I didn't own the fastest cars, but I could slide through the "esses" on the Bronx River Parkway or the “pipeline” faster than anyone. I knew how to “heel & toe double clutch down shift”. I knew about "racing lines", "apexes" and how to "drift" a corner from my kart racing and the reading I had done on European style road racing. In short I was loaded for bear and ready to set the racing world on fire.  It took Norm less than four laps to burst my bubble and deflate my ego. I thought I knew my Volvo pretty well but I soon found it had a whole 'nother personality. My “performance” driving up till then amounted to nothing more than a Sunday cruise in the country by comparison. I had NO idea that a car could be driven that fast and stay on the road. Norm kept his foot down entering the turns till we were RIGHT THERE. I was sure we'd hurtle straight on into the woods (there were no “sand traps” on race courses back then). I had a death grip on the vent window post and the seat frame despite the three point belt still mounted on the passenger seat. As I was bracing myself for the inevitable crash, Norm would stab at the brake, throttle and clutch pedals simultaneously, much like a dance step. While braking hard with the ball of his right foot, he rolled his foot to the right to blip the throttle as he double clutched with his left foot in what is known as “heel and toe” down shifting. He flicked the wheel with his left hand, the gear stick with his right, then squeezed the accelerator to the floor. The PV heeled over with a violence that I knew had to carry it the rest of the way over onto its roof. The little B-16 engine screamed defiantly and my feet floated up off the floor as we howled through Lime Rock's infamous uphill turn. All the while Norm kept up a running commentary about lines, apexes, etc. as if he were in a classroom. Norm pulled into the pits after four laps (which was just as well, one more lap and I would have lost my breakfast) and told me that that was about one half racing speed just to give me the idea. I was stunned and humbled. Some years later Howie Markham, a good friend of Norms, laughed when I told him of that experience and said that Norm was probably going as fast as he could turn a wheel. Norm used the remark about half racing speed purposely to humble cocky students.