When you climb into the driver seat of a Porsche 356 from the early 1960’s, you are not greeted by the smell of supple leather or the feel of lush carpet beneath your shoes but, instead, an overwhelming smell of fuel, burnt oil and crumbling horse hair. A steel steering wheel, cold to the touch, necessitates the use of leather driving gloves—not as some “stylish” accessory but as the only means of maintaining a grip on the slick painted surface under spirited driving. A chromed handle on the right side of the dash is the only place for a passenger to hold on for dear life while flying around the winding corners. The interior is spartan and with minimal creature comforts, save for the…