On a family trip to Ireland and England when I was 13 years old, we happened to visit Stratford-On-Avon, best known as the home of William Shakespeare. We had planned to visit Shakespeare's house, but surely spending 20 dollars each for a trio of unappreciative, teenaged American boys was not money well spent. So, we went to the Stratford-On-Avon Motor Museum instead, where admission was free, but a photo permit cost 25 pence and included a little gold sticker for your camera.

That day would mark my first photos of cars and my first exposure to Bugatti and the elegant coach-built Rolls-Royce that existed before World War II.

Somewhere, floating around my parents' attic is that old 110 camera with its little gold sticker that I never removed.

Blessed with a professional cinematographer/photographer as an uncle, I never lacked for interesting cameras, even if that meant attempting to use a 1950s Kodak Tourister 620 to shoot a high school football game. I don't recommend such tools for capturing the action.

A series of weapons followed the Tourister, from a Zeiss Ikoflex Favorit TLR to my first SLR, a well used, but extremely well cared for Pentax ME Super SE, sort of Pentax K1000 on steroids. All the while, I never stopped taking pictures of cars, but instead of the Maharajah's Rolls, it was more than likely the local muscle car show.

A proper auto-focus SLR with decent glass arrived in the late 1990s, as did my first assignments for national car magazines. Okay, they weren't so much assigned to me as I begged for them, but publication ensued. A final film camera upgrade occurred not long after I realized I was Y2K compatible. And after years of holding out against the digital hordes, I can finally accept that the pixel is a worthy companion to my images.