As I lower myself down into the Chieftain's driver's hatch, I realize I have none of those advantages. Settling into the seat, I find myself surrounded by controls that look only vaguely familiar.
Beneath the dashboard, Estes points out the accelerator and brake pedals, along with the sequential transmission's toe-operated shift lever. Flanking the driver's seat are two long tiller levers that take the place of a steering wheel.
After clicking the transmission down into first (no clutch is required), I discover just getting 55 tons of steel rolling requires a healthy application of throttle.
With the 650-horsepower supercharged 19.0-liter diesel engine bellowing in my ear, the big machine slowly rolls into motion. As we gain some speed, I click up through the five forward gears, topping out at about 20 mph. It's an admittedly modest speed, but the unfamiliar controls, lurching ride, and ponderous handling make even this snail's pace a little unnerving at first.
As we approach the steepest grade on the property, I discover the second major difference between tanks and wheeled vehicles: Tanks stop on a proverbial dime. After nearly catapulting Estes off his perch on the outside of the hull with what seemed like a modest stab at the brake pedal, I learn I can bring this behemoth to a surprisingly quick halt by lifting my foot from the accelerator.