Outside a florist-cum-coffee shop in upstate New York, a row of vintage cars gleam in the sun. It's unseasonably warm for early October, so there's a veritable crowd of car enthusiasts snapping photos of Ferraris, Porsches, and a vintage Alfa Romeo. Patient girlfriends and wives roll their eyes, sipping on maple matcha lattes and eating pumpkin spice donuts. And then there's me.