Opposites - Steam to Windmills

We were returning from a successful visit to the Apple shop, well it was succesful for Mrs Booty as I didn't come away with anything that required the use of a credit card. Dribbling and stammering is OK if you are helped away from the shop.

Anyways, we got back to the A30 and lordy lordy there was a traffic queue at 1000! "Bloody vizturs" quoth I as we sat and looked around. Then I spotted the cause of the queue, about a mile ahead was a steam traction engine on its way to Camborne for Trevithick day tomorrow. This allowed me to use my iPhoney thing to take a quick snap of the new wind installation just as the bloke who makes it go round undid the flap and poked his head out for some fresh air. I thought I was seeing things but he popped back in and came out again, just head and shoulders for a quick look see.

Blokes nut large.

RANT
As I am now permanently confined to the "Oh shit we are going to die" and "Why are we driving on this side of the dual carriageway?" seat, I have become aware of what a pain in the rear end I must have been as a driver for both Mrs Booty and other road users. Being testosterone soaked and hammering along the road does often get you to your destination before the geriatric old eejit who has been cruising along contentedly within their comfort zone, despite the ancient adage. Whilst I can understand the frustration caused by a slower vehicle, having been one of the "Got to get there" brigade I just wonder if the overflow of testosterone allied to excessive adrenaline and thumping heart beat does you or your customer/employee (please specify relationship) any good?

Is there an equivalent female version of testosterone soaked?