THE FIRST TIME I saw it, I was awestruck. Sitting atop the helm console of our family’s wooden downeaster, it looked part oscilloscope and part Star Trek phaser. Underneath a small housing, which covered a half-dollar-size glass window, was a switch that displayed a warm, trance-inducing, throbbing orange glow. It was the Judson engine synchronizer, a true gadget of tomorrow. There was a split neon bulb, and when the top and bottom sections glowed in unison, the engines were synced. I spent a good part of my childhood messing with the throttles to watch the glowing lights dance out of rhythm. I’m not sure Dad appreciated this curious endeavor much. Of course, if the old-school mechanical throttles had any slip in them, staring at the synchronizer to get everything perfect…
