There’s no denying man’s fascination with the automobile. What is it about cars that stirs something deep in the male psyche? Is it pure sex appeal – our anthropomorphic obsession with the aesthetics of automotive design? Is the sound of a revving engine some sort of mechanical primal scream? Or is it simply that we, in the words of Ricky Bobby, “wanna go fast?”

Like many men in my generation, I grew up with a poster of a Lamborghini Countach on my wall. I had die-cast replicas of some of my favorite cars: a 1937 Mercedes-Benz 540K Roadster; a 1957 Porsche 356 Carrera Speedster; and a 1962 Ferrari 250 GTO. I couldn’t believe that a former tractor manufacturer could turn out something as groundbreaking as the Lamborghini Miura. Looking at the curvaceous Bugatti Type 57S Atlantic Coupe, I had an emotional experience. It’s one of the sexiest damn things I have ever laid eyes upon.

My first car. I think mom approves.

My first car was an Autumn Gold Metallic 1970 Pontiac LeMans Sport convertible. Its stock, two-barrel 350-cubic-inch V-8 was somewhat underpowered, but the Cherry Bomb glasspack muffler I bolted on to it gave it just the right amount of growl. And forget about bucket seats – my LeMans had bench seats in the front, so my high school sweetheart could slide right over next to me as we cruised around town. I was 17, and I was in love – with my car.

I think nearly every teenage American boy fancies himself somewhat of a mechanic. The engine and components of American cars of that era are stupid easy to figure out. It’s pretty hard to screw them up, and Lord knows I tried. Changing your own oil, tuning the engine or just adding a sweet new set of rims are all rites of passage for young men.  We want our cars to look good, sound good and run good. And we want girls to notice. If we meet a girl who isn’t into our cars, well, then we’re just not into her.

As an adult, I get to indulge my automotive obsession through my involvement with the Arthritis Foundation. The Ault Park Concours d’Elegance hosts an incredible collection of some of the finest automobiles in the world, with the proceeds benefitting the Arthritis Foundation and Juvenile Arthritis research. For a number of years now, I’ve had the honor of attending the entire weekend’s worth of events, speaking on behalf of an organization that means a lot to me. I’ve met some extraordinary people (like Porsche racing legend Vic Elford); seen some impeccable examples of automotive history (like Jim Jaeger’s Corvette Grand Sport and Ferrari 330 GTO); and learned that the most fascinating thing about many of the cars is the story behind them.

I’ve also learned that cars level the playing field. From celebrities like Jay Leno to the guy who just spent $35,000 on his first Ferrari – when you’re talking cars, nothing else matters. No matter who you are, whether it’s at Pebble Beach or your local Friday night cruise-in, it’s all about the cars.

Me, my wife, and the car that will be mine.

Most importantly, I learned that I married the right girl – every year, the Concours weekend coincides with my wife’s birthday. And every year, she’s been very patient with me. In fact, I think she’s even developed a bit of an appreciation for cars herself – or maybe just an understanding of my lifelong obsession. As she knows, I’m hoping to one day take my love of automobiles to the next level – as an owner. There’s a reason our dog’s name is Dino. Like the cars that bear his name, he’s small, sleek, red, and fast. It’s a life goal of mine to take Dino for a ride in our own Dino.

Until then, I’ll be looking forward to this year’s Concours d’Elegance. With the featured marque “Red Hots Rides: Ferraris and Fire Engines,” you know it’s going to be a great show. Hope to see you there!

Pete