Bottomley, 85, is a native Chicagoan who remembers when ice and milk were delivered by horse-drawn wagons. After living as a starving artist in Paris he got his act together at age 50, started his own company, got married and never looked back.

My sister Phyllis, who is five years my junior, and I have been enthralled by the mystique of the automobile for our entire lives. In fact, I've been told the very first word I spoke was not mama or daddy, but "CAR!"

We are both now in our 80s, and we've owned a great many off-beat cars - mostly convertibles and jalopies. Some of these models went on to become valuable classics, such as my 1935 Ford convertible coupe and her 1950 Ford convertible, but along the way there have also been an MG Midget, a Hillman convertible, a Henry J, a 1964 Mustang convertible, a 500cc Fiat and a 1931 Rolls-Royce hearse. When my wife Anne and I married in 1975, Phyllis and her late husband drove the hearse to our church with big signs in the windows reading "Til Death Do Us Part," and "Marriage Is a Grave Undertaking."

My very first car was a 1930 Model A roadster acquired when I was 17 and my sister was 12. Together we painted it canary yellow and tore around our Chicago neighborhood in great style until World War II put an end to driving for pleasure and I was drafted into the army.

In more recent years, a friendly competition sprang up between us. To begin with, right after I got married, my wife and I bought a new 1975 Fiat X1/9 mid-engine sports car with a targa top. Phyllis countered with an electric VW Beetle that she and her family built by replacing the gas engine with a giant electric motor and filling the back seat area with 12-volt car batteries. It only ran a few hundred feet but it was nevertheless amazing!

And I will never forget driving our next car, a new baby-blue 1985 Renault Alliance convertible, off the showroom floor in Oakland. It was a lovely car that began to self-destruct almost immediately. It must have been the worst automobile ever built in the history of the universe, and by 50,000 miles it had gone through starters, alternators and, worst of all, a timing belt. Phyllis had the last laugh when we had to trade that one for an ancient Cadillac. But by 2001 I was sure my wife and I had outdone her with our very sharp little VW cabriolet (the best handling car we've ever had). However one day she drove up in front of our house in just about the coolest car I'd ever seen - a gorgeous maroon 1991 Infiniti convertible. She had the top down and wore a triumphant smile. Phyllis 1, John 0.

My wife and I had to get a car just like it. First we needed the money, which came to us out of the blue when Anne got her share of a class action settlement we'd forgotten all about! The next problem was finding an Infiniti convertible. Nissan had only made 5,000 of them and they are extremely rare. However, again luck was with us and we saw one in The Chronicle for sale from a dealer in Fremont. When we spotted the sharp all-black model on the lot we told the salesman we'd come for it. "Don't you want to know the price and don't you want to try it?" he asked. "I guess so," I replied, "but my main concern is, does the top work." The top worked. I parted with $6,000 cash and it was ours.

We'd lucked out yet again. For a car its age, it has been remarkably trouble free and has given us endless hours of pleasure in our retirement. Performance is sporty since it has the same engine as the Nissan Z cars. It is 17 years old now, and people still ask us what kind of car it is and remark on its striking beauty!

Sadly my sister's Infiniti turned out to be a lemon with unfixable electrical problems, and she had to get rid of it shortly after she bought it. Her spirit was broken and she settled for a drab econobox. However, lately she's been hinting that she'll get a smart car. My wife and I love smart cars (yes, they do make a convertible), and if she takes the bait we will be hard pressed to outdo her.

SFCHRONICLE CARS is produced by the marketing department of The San Francisco Chronicle.

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Source:http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2008/12/19/MTIA144P9U.DTL