As a 14 year old I remember my father hauling ass on the Adirondack Northway in upstate NY in our 1971 T-37. The 140 mph speedo was recessed so from the passenger seat you could only see the left side, or 0-70. I slid over a little and peeked, but still couldnt see the numbers, slid over a little more, craned my neck, all the while not wanting to be obvious and startle my mother was was sitting in the back seat reading. When I finally saw the needle pointing to around 125 I said Holy Something. Of course then mom looked up and had a canary, dad slowed down, and I was hooked on going ffffast.
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