If you don’t like cars, well, then you might be in the wrong place. I love cars. I do. I love everything about them: all the thought that goes into building one and the mechanics that come together to make a car run. I love that each of them have different personalities, like people. Cars also evoke particular emotions in me, going all the way back to when I was a kid growing up in Germany driving on the Autobahn. Cars stir up memories of a certain time and place, of being with my dad or my brothers. They are kind of like the through-line of my life because they’ve always been important to me and continue to connect me to memories of growing up with my family.
The first car I ever bought for myself was a GMC Typhoon, a high-performance S.U.V. that was the fastest-production truck in the world at the time. The thing went zero to 60, which was faster than a Corvette at that time. Back in the day, my parents once gave me a Mercedes Benz 280 SLC and, man, was that a great car, too. Oh, how I loved that car: I polished it and then drove it and then polished it some more. We were living in Germany at the time, so there were Mercedes all over the place, but it was still a lot for a young kid to have. In the States, you tell people you had a Mercedes as a teenager, and they’d think I was spoiled. Trust me, I wasn’t, and I was very appreciative.
Today, I have quite a few cars in my personal collection. People always ask which one my favorite is—and it’s an impossible question to answer because each car truly means something different to me. It’s like trying to choose your favorite kid (kids, I love you more than the cars, I promise): There’s going to be some things about one kid that make you crazy, but then there’s something else about that kid that makes you love them more than you can imagine, too—each kid is so different, so unique. And that’s how I feel about my cars. Take my Lamborghini truck, for example: I love it because it’s big and brawny, strong and powerful and really unusual. But I also love my old-school BMW and Mercedes that are just clean and simple and have a certain ride and smoothness about them. And then you have the modern-day sports car, like my Porsche, that is just full of power and you have to be on your toes every second you’re behind the wheel. And I love them all.
But ask me what my dream car is, and I’ve got a quick answer for you: the 1962-era Ferrari 250 GTO. I don’t have it because it cost about $50 million dollars. However, I would take a McLaren F1—those only cost between $15 and $25 million. My birthday’s in November, so you can buy one for me, if you like.