So anyway, since I was a bewildered little kid I have always had a soft spot for two things ... nice fizzy drinks and big fast cars which are bright red and go by the name of Ferraris.
Dad collected automotive magazines and also had many models he had built atop the kitchen table ... infuriating Mum as she resultingly toiled to peel and lift the dried up glue he'd spilled.
At least he took the tablecloth off first. Once he didn't and glued the bloody thing to the pine below.
Such errors were used as lessons for us kids.
"See what you'd end up doing if you spilled glue on mum's table?" he would advise ... somehow cleverly implicating us in the act.
So anyway, he had a few Ferraris in his little collection and they were beautiful.
Their red livery denoted they were Italian, in the way "British racing green" denoted the Vanwalls and Coopers hailed from the British Empire.
I always liked Ferraris as I liked the culture of Italy ... spaghetti and meatballs, red wine and Mario Lanza (Mum played him all the time).
I also grew to love Italian motorcycles and from the age of about 14 was infatuated with the great Giacomo Agostini ... but in a manly sort of way you understand.
So to have once been handed a blisteringly fast (red of course) MV Agusta F4 for a week, and having met Ago' on a couple of marvellous occasions, I feel a strong link with Rome ... despite my Spanish heritage.
But I've never been in a moving Ferrari ... sat in one once but that was it.
So when it comes to the F1 landscape I'm like a Split Enz song "... I see red, I see red, I see red."
I loved the Michael Schumacher years as he steered the sparkling and ferocious scarlet fire engines to win after win, title after title and on the wall of infamy in my cluttered den there is a great photo of him passing the chequered flag as his crew celebrate.
And I enjoyed the skill and power of Fernando Alonso ... I can even hear ABBA warbling "can you hear the revs Fernando?"
He left a fine team for the red car, and while he didn't get a title with Ferrari, he just looked the bee's knees.
Knee-high to a bee? Oh don't get me started.
So now my devotion is to the German lad Sebastian Vettel, who scooped up four titles with Red Bull before deciding to pitch his competitive tent in Italy with Ferrari. Bless him.
And now I will get to the point of this. I am so pleased I made a childhood decision to spend my F1 life with Ferrari and no other.
Had I veered toward the birthplace of Mr Vettel (and not the car he now drives) and bonded with Mercedes I would be an unhappy little chappy now ... because they've got Lewis Hamilton ... and anyone who selfies themselves riding a Harley-Davidson in Auckland and later complains about being treated like an ordinary person at the Sky Tower has no place in my lounge when the flag drops.
A Ferrari driver would not do that.
They would ride an MV and leave the selfie-taking phone back in the hotel room ... next to the half-finished plate of lasagne.
And they would not go to the Sky Tower.
They would enjoy half a bottle of Sagrantino, get into an argument with no one in particular and then later have an afternoon siesta (I know the latter is Spanish but we do export some good things).
So much more civil and social.
What's wrong with these other showy clowns?
- Roger Moroney is an award-winning journalist for Hawke's Bay Today and observer of the slightly off-centre.
