It's Cool. Period.

I drove a Mazda Miata in Chicago. The fact that it was a Miata didn't matter. The fact that it was a convertible, did.

I considered every other two-seater convertible the same as mine. I'd see a nice color and say that I should've gotten one like that only to be reminded that BMWs came in that color, not Miatas. Why didn't mine have a bigger rack, like that one? Because that one was a Mercedes. And when I passed a car and said I'd never noticed how cool my rims were, I was told that the rims on a Porsche were cool, but I wasn't driving a Porsche.

When I left Chicago for Italy I left my Miata (and Mercedes and BMW and Porsche) behind. No Italian driver's license meant no car. Seven years later, back in the market for both, I searched for a Miata, not for its name but for its reliability. Then I learned that a neopatentato (someone who just got their license, whom I affectionately call a 'baby driver') has certain requirements their first year on the road. The government requirement is a car with low horse power. My requirements were topless and two seats (because they aren't available with only one). Benvenuto Opel Tigre.

My car and I get very little attention. There's nothing cool about the car and the driver has crazy, grey hair. The few looks I get come from either scarf-clad Italians that assume the top must be broken when it's down in January and or from kids that are young enough to be unimpressed by brands. (In Italy that means younger than 7.) They always look twice when I pass and some even shout, "Che figo!" (How cool!).

The other day when I showed up at my friend's for lunch the neighborhood kids stopped their pick-up soccer game in the street and followed me until I parked.  To them my car was the coolest thing they'd ever seen. They were thrilled to see the electric top go up and down (I preferred my Miata's manual rag top) and they searched for the backseat. They're too young to know the difference between a Mercedes and a Miata. For them it was a car with two seats and no roof.

That night I told their dad how nice it was to see the kids with no interest in the make of my car. I was happy to say that at least kids see things the way I do. Then came the million dollar question. "Don't you think it might be the other way around? The kids don't see things through your eyes. You see things through theirs."

You should try it. Not only is it more fun, it's also a lot less expensive.