I love cars. It's silly, but it's true. I enjoy talking with others about cars, ogling cars and occasionally even driving cars. With all the money I spend on car magazines and books, I likely could have bought a 60s MG MGB by now, but that's another story. My father tells me stories of walking by my grandparent's neighbors in Dublin, and stopping to admire the Aston Martin DB5 in their driveway. I was barely able to walk, but I would insist on stopping to look at the quintessential British gentleman's tourer. It's a deep-seated problem. 

I have a particular fondness for the great grand tourers and sports cars of the 1960s - and the accompanying stories: The Ferrari 250GTE that made its debut as the 1960 pace car of Le Mans and was Enzo's personal ride of choice as he could comfortably take his dog with him in it; or tractor-cum-automaker Ferruccio Lamborghini's gorgeous and technically superior 400GT 2+2, only the young company's second car, and the response to a disagreement Ferruccio had with Enzo over his Maranello-made mechanicals. The sultry Malcom Sayer-designed Jaguar E-type, a car Enzo is reported to have called "the most beautiful car ever made," essentially came to symbolize the Swingin' Sixties. There's the story of another tractor manufacturer turned automotive impresario, David Brown, who bought a fledgling young car company named Aston Martin in 1947. Under his direction, the company produced some of the world's most iconic autos (Sean Connery made Aston a household name with the release of Goldfinger in 1964) and fabled racers (the 1959 DBR1 co-piloted by a young Carroll Shelby won the 24 hours of Le Mans that year). Don't even get me started on vintage cars of the 1920s and 1930s, or the 50s-era William Lyons' XKs and the sporting ACs of Britain, or America's chromed behemoths of the 1950s or the muscle wars of the late-60s and early-70s. You get the point. 

I firmly believe that every car carries a story, some good, some bad. How many memories do you have associated with cars - a first car? A first date in a car? A first ticket? Family trips? Epic breakdowns?

With the summer car show and concours circuit a few months shy of Mother Nature's blessing in Ohio, there are few places for car guys to go kick tires. Yes, there is the Crawford Auto-Aviation Museum in Cleveland and the National Packard Museum in Warren, and they are wonderful. If you haven't visited either in a while, you should. You'll learn something. There is also the Cleveland Auto Show. 

When I was a younger, I'd eagerly look forward to attending the auto show with my father. I still do, and so I went this week. There are less cars this year, to be sure, and "nobody is buying new cars", but it's an exciting time, if you think about it. With Toyota moving full steam ahead and showing no signs of stopping, and all the German purveyors of luxurious banker cars engaged in an insular battle of monotony, the US automakers have seemingly got a bit of sense, looking toward quality not quantity. In all the years I've been going to car shows, I've never spent so much time in the Ford display area. More important, though, was the meeting of generations. Climbing in and out of cars, exchanging stories and opinions were kids and their parents, middle-aged folks with grandfathers. Strangers exchanged thoughts – and laughs – on automotive styling, inviting conversation that would normally seem awkward. People were having fun. People were comfortable. Whether you are interested in cars or not, it's about the times you share around them and the people you meet and get to know. 

So, grab a few friends or the family, and go to the auto show. It's $12 per person, and the parking is free.