So the best part of getting my head shaved was getting Mike Spinelli and a garage full of mechanics to laugh, but the next best part was getting a tour of the garage's separate back garage. 

We enter.

And find paradise. That's Frank Spadaro, who organizes some dream drives. I want to go back on a drive with my baja now so bad.

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This Lancia touched me deeply.

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It has the world's first production V6.

Seeing this felt like a privilege.

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A beautiful V8 Ford.

More to life than Europeans.

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Not that there's anything wrong with the Continent's finest.

The only OSCA I've ever seen. This was Maserati after the Maserati brothers left Maserati.

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Beautiful.

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The air was thick in here.

Frank was very proud of the Testarossa.

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Even he could't get enough of the flat-12.

It's an imposing vehicle, no question.

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Right behind it was a cocaine-white 400i.

As we left, we poured over the Spadaro's Alfa, which they run in vintage racing with some success.

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It wasn't looking astoundingly happy that day, but I can't talk down on a Giulietta. I'm pretty much an Alfisti at this point.

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Finally, there was this last mystery. I never figured out what it was, but damn was it gorgeous.

We packed up in a bit of a rush, I took the train back to Manhattan, packed my bags, and flew straight to Montreal, where I was met by some truly kind, welcoming people, some angry dude with a Napoleon complex, and the anticipation of seeing F1 cars in the morning. A good day.