Cars and driver "connectivity" has recently become a topic of much discussion and debate. Technology content, infotainment and virtual connectivity all seem to be the metrics by which a growing portion of the driving public defines the performance or desirability of an automobile.

I'm also a big fan of connectivity in cars, but it's not the kind that involves touchscreens, phones and cell towers. My definition of connectivity involves the seat of your pants, your hands on the wheel and your feet on the pedals.

It's the visceral connection, not the virtual one. It's the emotional and physical connection, the one that makes you want to drive it. How does a touchscreen provide that?

I'll assume most Porsche owners are as passionate about driving their cars as they are about the cars themselves. I describe it as a car connection disorder — an affliction I am most fortunate to have. Infotainment systems and autonomous vehicles simply don't interest me because they have nothing to do with the way I want to connect with my car.

I want to connect via my senses, not my watch. Direct steering feel, linear brakes, great lateral grip and a melodious exhaust soundtrack are what connect me when I'm driving. I need a car that puts me deep into that feedback loop between the driver, the car and the road, not one that isolates me from it.

I want the way my car connects with my senses and nerve endings to make me smile every time I drive it. It's a great disorder to have, and it deserves — no, needs — to be spread to others.

But did my car connection disorder come from nature, nurture or random chance?

My mechanical aptitude and passion for cars seems quite clearly to be my nature, but with no apparent source in my family tree. No one in my family (at least that I'm aware of) gave me the "car genes."

My nurture, however, was for the most part my grandfather. He was a carpenter by trade and knew little about cars, but he recognized my nature and mechanical aptitude. He used woodworking to teach me not only about tools and working with my hands, but also about creativity, creative expression and how to translate my ideas into real objects. His mentoring and guidance resulted in the first two race cars I ever designed, built and drove, my Soap Box Derby cars. Thanks, Pap!

My passion for driving is a slightly different story. Clearly, my parents were astute enough to see where my nature was taking me (too many go-kart books and catalogs in my room I suppose), so there was never a motorized go-kart or minibike at my house — ever.

Oh, I had the plans. I ordered them from the back of a magazine, and I knew what needed to be done. But an engine and sprockets just never quite came my way. My passion for four-wheeled motoring would have to rely on gravity assist for the moment.

My situation changed for the better when the Commonwealth of Virginia granted me a driver's license. I enthusiastically explored the world of vehicle dynamics in every car I could from Volkswagen Rabbits to Oldsmobile station wagons to V8 four-speed Mustang IIs. There were even a few rental trucks thrown in there just for variety's sake.

My affliction with car connection disorder grew exponentially. In those days, multitasking while driving was learning how to downshift smoothly while braking for the next corner. Eventually, I met others affected with the same disorder — not many at first, but enough to know I wasn't alone in my enthusiasm. Fast cars and club racing soon followed, starting with a new Camaro Z28 five-speed manual, replaced by a couple of E-Production class MGB's and finally a Lola Formula Ford.

Racing stopped when children arrived, but I'm happy to report at least one and maybe even two of my children are afflicted with my car connectivity disorder. And the other two at least recognize cars as something other than mobile infotainment platforms.

I'd like to say it was all in the genes, but I was also never shy about sharing my enthusiasm with my children — nurturing never hurts. I constantly exposed them to my automotive interests and enthusiasm but without making it tiresome or pedantic for them. It's fantastic if they develop their own car connections, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't observe and encourage any nascent interests like my grandfather did for me.

The only thing I absolutely required was attendance at a professional driving school for teenagers. They need to experience and learn about car control at the limit to become better, safer drivers. Of course I'm all for bonus activities, including rides in a 9-second, quarter-mile dragster and catch-me-if-you-can challenges at the local indoor kart track.

Another way to help them develop that visceral connection with their car is to teach them to listen to their car and feel what it is doing. You'd be amazed how quickly they'll develop their own level of seat-of-the-pants feel for a car if you just take the time to share your experience and explain what the car is doing in response to their inputs.

Coach/ride with them in enough different cars, and I guarantee they will start to develop their own sense of what kind of car they prefer to drive. Yes, that includes letting them drive your Porsche. Porsches are intended to be all about the driving experience and are an obvious way to encourage the development of car connection disorder in friends and family.

It's no secret that most, if not all, of the manufacturers are busy developing and marketing car connectivity technologies that don't even involve being in the car, much less driving it.

At this year's Consumer Electronics Show (CES), Porsche rep Scott Baker talked about Porsche's development of connectivity technologies and "wearables" that keep the owner connected with their vehicle even when they aren't in it. He also discussed how Porsche measures the "feeling" people get while driving a Porsche, and commented, "If you can experience a ride in a Porsche, you are absolutely hooked."

I agree with that, but he then continued by commenting Porsche was excited about finding technologies that could "provide that experience without having to necessarily be in the car."

No, no, no, that's not what car connection disorder is about. Drive the car, let others drive the car. If your smart watch needs to talk to your connected car, just leave them home alone together.

However, there's still a glimmer of hope for people who prefer the visceral — not virtual — experience of driving a Porsche. The automaker's President and CEO Matthias Müller has said Porsche doesn't "want a smartphone on four wheels or the biggest touchscreen in the center console," according to The Globe and Mail. We'll have to wait and see how that pans out.

So leave your phone home and bring your chronograph out for a ride in your buddy's 911, 914, 944, etc. You'll feel better.