Often red, rather racy, and revved to roar, sports cars are an automobile lover’s dream. Although these rides vary considerably in style, price, and makes and models, those who drive them can be categorized into four main groups: the Grandpas, the Mid-Lifers, the Stare-Magnets, and the Daddy’s Boys. For the Grandpas, owning a sports car has been a life-long objective, but life had other plans. There were kids to raise, bills to pay, his wife’s perms to be had, and university tuition to tackle. However, the kids moved out and finished college, and retirement happened, leaving Grandpa a chance to finally get that Porsche 911 Turbo. Sadly, such satisfied geriatrics never drive that Porsche over 80 k.p.h., lest they suffer that pending heart attack all too soon. Sunday drivers they are, daily. Then there is another category of men who simply can’t wait until retirement to get that new sports car: the Mid-Lifers who are in their late 40’s or early 50’s. Having suffered through wife-induced headaches and dissatisfaction with married life and his dead-end career for years, a Mid-Lifer buys a Lotus Esprit to simply feel good about himself, again, something he hasn’t done since college. Getting behind the wheel of his red Lotus, he takes a deep breath and loses his soul in speed, forgetting about his nagging wife back home as he takes to the S-curves. On the other hand, for a Stare-Magnet, another category of sports car drivers, he doesn’t lose his soul in speed; he simply thinks he is gaining something spiritual by showing off his Ferrari Spider to the passersby walking along the shore of Lake Lugano or down the Las Vegas Strip. Naturally, to draw attention, he has the top retracted and Andrea Bocelli blaring from the ten-speaker stereo system—to the point that he can’t hear himself think, although his thinking would only be focused on how cool he thinks he looks. Moreover, when he parks, he pulls in diagonally across two spaces—and directly in front of the café where he goes inside to order a chai tea latte while still wearing his sunglasses, chatting away on the hands-free device protruding from his ear. Finally, there are the Daddy’s Boys. Though barely old enough to drive, and still young enough that he can’t grow a beard, this type of driver rolls around town in a $350,000 Aston Martin DB9—which Daddy bought for his having gotten a D+ on a science project at his prep school. For these teens, they might have to adjust the phone book they’re sitting on when a cop pulls them over for speeding, just so the officer can see them from behind because they’re otherwise too short to appear in the rear window. For these Daddy’s Boys, as well as the other categories of aforementioned sports car drivers—Grandpas, Mid-Lifers and Stare-Magnets—it doesn’t matter what others think of them. They’ve got a sports car, and that’s all that matters.