Most boys fall in love twice before they reach their teens. One focus is likely an unattainable person — perhaps a singer or movie star, or maybe even a teacher — and the other, an unattainable car. Both loves usually remain unrequited.

For me, the unattainable person was the “blonde girl from ABBA.” It didn’t matter that I couldn’t pronounce her name. A poster of her was the last thing I saw at night and the first thing I saw in the morning. This passion did not endure. She is now more gray than blonde, and I no longer wish to see her in the skintight jumpsuit she wore so excitingly 35 years ago.

As for the car, my love remains undimmed. It is possibly the pinnacle of automotive design, as beautiful today as when it first rolled out of an Italian factory in 1972: the Lancia Stratos.

I don’t need to resort to memory to picture it. There is one in front of me right now. I received a 1/72 scale model of a Stratos one Christmas. For my entire working life, it has had pride of place on my desk.

The design was determined by function, which in the case of the Stratos was rather specialized. You can’t go shopping in it (there’s nowhere to put your purchases) or take a date out in it (there is no way to get in and out of the cramped, roll bar-protected cockpit with dignity) or shuttle kids to school in it (there are no back seats). The Stratos had one function: to drive fast along rough, winding roads. It was the world’s first purpose-designed rally car.

Rallying dates back to the dawn of automotive history. Almost as soon as there were cars, there were races. Initially, endurance was more important than speed; in the 1880s, it was an achievement for any vehicle to reach the end of the block without breaking down. But by the turn of the 20th century, dedicated sports cars were being produced, and wealthy playboys raced them along the expanding road network. In 1911, the glamorous Monte Carlo Rally was inaugurated and continues to be held annually.

Besides providing thrills for drivers and spectators, rallying became an important showcase for vehicle manufacturers. Production models were adapted to meet the challenges of the growing number of rallying events around the world. The cars were plastered with the names and logos of corporate sponsors. Rally driving became a lucrative profession rather than an expensive hobby.

By the 1970s, the World Rally Championship elevated the sport to a new level. It was against this backdrop that designers at Turin-based Lancia set about creating their world-beating rally car.

They started with a short wheelbase to enable the car to drift sideways around corners. Onto it they put a chassis that curved in all the right places, with a futuristic, wrap-around windshield reminiscent of a jet fighter. The car hit the circuit in 1974 and won the championship three years running.

The toughest event on the world rally calendar was the East African Safari Rally, held in Kenya. It was there, in 1976, that the legendary Italian driver Sandro Munari invited local school kids to sit in the co-driver’s seat of his parked Stratos. I was one of them.

Even to a child, the interior seemed small and uncomfortable. It reeked of oil and stale sweat. I learned then that unattainability has its advantages. For more than 30 years, my love for the Stratos has thrived on desire and aspiration — without the disappointments of reality.