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Ferrari sold the Dino 246 GTS without any Prancing Pony badges but this mid-engined icon lives up to the famous family's heritage nonetheless.

Growing up, I kept only two model cars on my shelves: a British Racing Green E-Type Jaguar and a Rosso Corsa Ferrari Dino. Few cars epitomize their respective automakers—or even their national automotive design eras—like an E-Type or Dino, even if the latter actually proved quite controversial given the badging and nomenclature that differentiated it from "true" Ferraris like the 250 GTO or 275 GTB/4.

Regardless of full Ferrari status, when Putnam Leasing recently reached out with an opportunity to drive a 1972 Dino 246 GTS, I couldn't pass up the chance to take a spin in one of the cars that set my formative mind on track for a lifetime of automotive obsession.

The Dino's path towards production famously involves the cantankerous Commendatore himself, who supposedly never agreed when his first son, named Alfredo but known by the nickname Dino, brought up the idea of challenging Porsche's 911 with a cheap six-cylinder model.

But when Dino succumbed to Duchenne muscular dystrophy at age 24, the V6 engine he espoused received his name and so, eventually, would a new mid-engined sports car that debuted around a decade later shod in Pininfarina-penned bodywork with that famous Dino V6 providing motivation.

Enzo Ferrari clearly preferred his V12 powerplants, which perhaps explains why the original Dino 206 GT never bore Ferrari badging. And in fact, the 206 also employed a V6 built by Fiat in large enough quantities to homologate the engine for FIA competition. By 1969, the Dino GT (and new removable top Spyder version, known as the GTS) received a revised version of the 65-degree V6 now built in-house by Ferrari and rated at peaks of 192 horsepower and 166 lb-ft of torque.

Mounted transversely beneath such iconic skin, the Dino fires up with a grumbly roar typical of V6 motors. The unique sound reveals a clear departure from a Colombo V12's smoother soundtrack and hints at the competition-spec variants that eventually powered such legendary sports cars as the Lancia Stratos HF (my number-one favorite car even today, which only added to my excitement at the prospect of actually driving a Dino).

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This particular Dino 246 GTS received a thorough restoration before Steve, the current owner (or more accurately, lessor), acquired the car from Putnam Leasing. The optional "Daytona" seats feature yellow leather inserts but some details on the interior somewhat detract from the clean, simple design that offers enough space for taller drivers like Steve and myself to climb in without feeling cramped. That said, the rest of the car still presents almost perfectly. Steve told me he drives the Dino regularly and considers the deal with Putnam Leasing owner Stephen Posner a "lease for life."

I spent a fair amount of time just soaking up the little design details that made the Dino so perfect. From the bulging fenders to the tiny cone-shaped rearview mirror housings, right down to the Campagnolo wheels that set off my road cyclist's envy (I set up both my bikes currently with Campy group sets and one even with gorgeously svelte carbon-fiber Bora WTO 45 wheels). I only hoped that the stunning form might meld with perfect function, lest my dream car turn into a nightmare.

RELATED: This Is What Made The 1969 Ferrari Dino 246 GT L So Awesome

Luckily, the high-sidewall, 205 section-width tires point towards the Dino's impressive performance for the era. Straight-line speed that's better than a contemporary Porsche 911S only paints part of the picture, however, because that mid-engined weight distribution served as star of the show as soon as Posner and I pulled out from our picturesque parking spot. The low-slung steel body, with plenty of aluminum bits harkening back to the earlier 206, leans a bit around corners in typical classic-car fashion before settling into place coming out into straights. Of course, fewer than 200 horses seems paltry on paper compared to today's sports cars, but with the Spyder's roof removed and our tails riding what felt like four inches above the asphalt, the sensation of speed gets relative quite quickly.

That impeccable balance comes into play equally given the lack of power assist for both the brakes and rack-and-pinion steering (the latter another first for Ferrari). But I love the physical exertion of stomping on a brake pedal, as the fluid pressure builds so linearly, or cranking a thin-rimmed steering wheel around at low speed and feeling the weight lessen as speed picks up. Only a few minutes into the drive, I knew exactly why the formerly maligned Dino's values lately only continue to skyrocket.

Driving any classic car typically forces me to focus on a period of acclimatization, as I figure out the clutch pedal travel and friction zone, row a new shifter through new gear ratios, and feel out the driving dynamics. The Dino, on the other hand, makes hopping in for a quick drive so easy that I barely needed to focus on Ferrari's integration of the various driver controls while negotiating construction and canyons that morning.

RELATED: This Is How Much A 1969 Ferrari Dino 246 GT L Costs Today

Of course, collectors can push their personal cars much harder than I drove Steve's (and Stephen Posner's) Dino that day. But they probably enjoy the Pininfarina design equally as much as the performance. And from a purely stylistic perspective, few cars come close—Porsche's own 904 actually resembles the Dino most nearly, while Ferrari's latest-and-greatest 296 GTB certainly draws cues from the 50-year-older ancestor in homage to a hybrid V6 mounted, you guessed it, amidships.

That Dino V6 behind the cockpit burbled and snorted its way up and down the hills of Malibu and Topanga, popping a bit on shifts and happily cranking up as I edged moderately into the higher rev range. The motor wanted more, but my own hesitations held me back—and the demands of a microphone already dealing with wind noise. The engine placement undoubtedly contributes to Ferrari's famous long-arm, short-leg driving position that requires a bit of adjustment before pushing hard, too. Luckily, the open-top design leaves plenty of headroom, though my own preference for coupes still stands. Ferrari built 2,295 Dino coupes in comparison to 1,274 Spyders. This GTS also benefits from even rarer factory air conditioning and electric windows, too.

That kind of rarity, even in a Ferrari that some purists might scoff at, makes the chances I'll ever own a Dino to push all the way to our absolute limits quite low. The Hagerty Valuation Tool places a #3 "Good" condition Dino at a whopping $480,000 and a Concours-level car above $600,000. Luckily, for fans like Steve and enthusiasts like myself, Posner's clever solution allows for classic car "ownership" without the significant financial hit required in a more traditional pay-to-play purchase.

Forking over a monthly lease looked all the more enticing as I drove one of the dream cars of my childhood imaginings, with the sights, sounds, and even smells transporting me into a world of tactile Italian luxury and performance so often lost in today's increasingly electrified automotive age.

Sources: putnamleasing.com, youtube.com, campagnolo.com, and hagerty.com.

Michael Van Runkle grew up surrounded by Los Angeles car culture, going to small enthusiast meets and enormous industry shows. He learned to drive stick shift in a 1948 Chevy pickup with no first gear and currently dailies his 1998 Mitsubishi Montero while daydreaming about one day finishing up that Porsche 914 project. He's written in various media since graduating from UC Berkeley in 2010 and started at HotCars in February 2018.