As perspiration drips down my face, all I can think about is the day when I’ll sit behind the wheel of my Big Healey and roam the streets. In my daydream, her engine purrs and the dual exhaust pipes roar when we accelerate. It’s easy to imagine the wind nipping at my face and more than anything the joy of feeling the torque from her hefty six-cylinder pulling with every shift of the gears. After a tough six months of work, the restoration is complete. Both of my hands are bruised and one has stitches. There is also a hole in my wallet the size of a rhino. Nevertheless, when I drive the Healey out of the garage and onto the street, yes, there is a broad smile on my face. However, it quickly becomes apparent the Healey’s appeal extends to an audience that I did not anticipate. It seems…