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Cautious Conservatism. After he joined the European circuit in 1964, he and Clark shared an apartment in London. Their digs soon became known in racing circles as the "Scottish Embassy." Stewart married a Lowland lassie, Helen McGregor, who came to understand the substance of her mother-in-law's fears. At the Belgian Grand Prix in 1966, her husband's car spun out of control as he whipped around a rain-slick corner at 150 m.p.h., and ripped through a telegraph pole and a tree before it screamed to a halt. For 35 minutes Stewart was trapped in the cockpit as the gasoline from his full tanks rose to his armpits. Miraculously, the car did not explode, and a team of workmen managed to pry him out.
Coupled with Clark's death, that near-tragedy had a signal effect on Stewart. Off the track, the little (5 ft. 6¢ in., 148 lbs.) driver is all Scottish charm; he wears Savile Row suits and affects shoulder-length locks. When it comes to his profession, however, he is all caution and conservatism. The Belgian Grand Prix was canceled this year largely because of his argument that the race would be too dangerous on wet roads. He was among the first Grand Prix drivers to use the six-point-contact seatbelt, and he introduced the idea of remote-control fire extinguishers in the engine compartment and cockpit, which racing authorities may make compulsory.
Such precautions do not imply that Stewart's passion for driving has diminished. "I know it's an old cliche," he says, "but a car is really very much like a woman. One day, you have to be very gentle. The next, you may have to give it a good thrashing. But the worst thing that can happen is to let it control you. When that happens, you're no longer a driver—you're just a passenger." So far, Stewart has shown that he knows just when to coax his high-strung lady, and when to coddle her.