I was lucky, sort of.
My Dad was absolutely a car guy growing up in the Bay Area. They would
make cars out of various frames, panels and mechanical/electrical parts.
They were also big into motorcycles and worked on/rode a lot.
But then, darkness descended and he and my Uncle Byron went to the dark side:
All British all the time, my Dad included.
This was our family car (I'm with Major Joko).
When we moved back to California when I was 9, my Dad bought one of the first Lotus Europa's imported to California.
Eek.
Before we move to Newbury Park to a 17 acre "ranch", we lived in Rolling Oaks, which was then fairly rural between Thousand Oaks and Newbury Park for six months while the house on the ranch was being refurbished. The rental was at the end of Colt Lane and had a steep driveway we used to gravity feed our carts, etc.
He would set off on a Saturday and drive the many canyon roads everyone here is familiar with. This was in 1966.
My friends and I were standing at the top of the driveway when my Dad comes up Colt Lane followed by a 911, a 356 and a Lotus 7. They had met canyon running and up the driveway they come.
The 911 driver was a great guy and watched me pour over his car.
"Want a ride?"
I "yes sir'ed" him like a mad man.
That was it: The hook was set.