So, as a car lover, I was greatly disappointment that my father didn't really care about cars. I think it stems from the fact that he has the mechanical aptitude of a tree. The coolest car he owned was a Honda Accord Coupe. The car he talks about as a child was his Corvair -- Corvair! I mean, don't get me wrong, I couldn't have had a better dad. Fact is, I wouldn't trade any of his qualities for him to love cars.

Instead he humored me as a rattled off the zero to sixty times of a Lamborghini Countach (BTW, has anyone seen the Lamborghini website http://www.lamborghini.com? Badly need a redesign.) or went into rapture when a Delorean passed. He set up a "play date" with a friend of his who owned a Porsche 930, to this day the fasted car I have ever been in. Man, he even squeezed into the little, tiny jump-seat in the back as we zoomed around the hamlets of Connecticut. He made time for my love, even when he would have much rather I wanted to go golfing (yuck!) with him. Yup, that's my dad. I'm one lucky guy.

So, when I married a girl who loves cars almost as much as I do, I thought the chances of us having a child that liked cars was pretty good. Girl or boy, it could happen. It should happen. It did happen.

As an adult I now realize that my dad had to work to find commonalities between us. And he did. We have much more in common as adults as we did when I was a kid. But that didn't stop him from reaching out, making the connection and letting his love do the rest.

I've got it a little easier, I guess. Regardless what path my son takes, what crazy life experiences he has and what likes we may not share, no matter what, I know we'll always have cars. To me, that's a great starting point. Of course, if, God forbid this is just a faze, I've got that love thing to fall back on, too.