America's obsession with celebrity is quite remarkable. When I tell the locals that I'm off to interview Jay Leno, their eyes widen and they make odd sounds that I interpret as meaning they're impressed.
Like most post-pubescent Irish people, I'm not fazed that much by famous people, because celebrities walk and talk and eat just like the rest of us.
They're human beings, blessed with obscene amounts of money but cursed by being unable to walk or talk or eat without someone taking pictures and splashing them across the front of scandal rags. You'll never see Leno's unmistakable visage on the cover of any tabloid paper, though.
"I don't go to the Caribbean on holidays and I don't have a collection of villas," he explains. "I usually spend my vacations in my garage, working on my cars."
Indeed, that's where we eventually meet - in his garage and during his vacation.
Leno might press palms with just about every famous person on the planet, but none of their self-obsession or pretentiousness rubs off on him. He's just a regular guy with an extraordinary job that allows him to pursue his passion and he's more than willing to let us in for a gawp. All we have to do is find the damn place.
His garages, buried in the back of a busy industrial estate in Burbank, California, look just the same as every other building in the locality - as unpretentious as possible in a location as nondescript as a John Kerry speech. These could well house kitchen rolls or dog food instead of millions of dollars worth of cars and, while that's great for security, it has me driving around it in circles for an hour.
Eventually, we think we've found the place and pull up to the first of two hefty gates. I push the button on the call-box and announce our arrival, but I'm put on hold while an employee trots off to verify that I am who I say I am, and not some crazed fan or paparazzi scumbag. I guess that's the price of fame.
No need to wait for the assistant to return, however, because when I look up Jay Leno is staring straight at me, striding across the small yard with about six or seven people in tow. The gates open and he greets us warmly, but he wants us to park our car and follow him quickly.
"I'm just showing some friends around - come on in!" Less than a minute later we're in his garage confronted by his collection - an eclectic array of cars that range from a Mazda MX-5 and Citroën SM to an American LaFrance Fire truck. Thankfully the group with him keep him occupied while I take a moment to compose myself. Could it be I'm a little star-struck, perhaps? Better play it cool. Better close my mouth.
Not only is this vast, spotless garage packed with cars and motorcycles of every vintage, every inch of wall is covered in memorabilia. Each vehicle has a corresponding miniature model or a magazine cover or an advertising hoarding or period painting nearby to set it off, indicating the man's great knowledge and love of all things vehicular.
He walks around, chatting briefly about some of the cars and rattling off facts and figures. It's clear he's done the tour many times, and has an automatic response for every comment people make.
"Which is your favourite car, Jay?" asks one fellow.
"Well, if I had a favourite I wouldn't have all these cars, would I?" he fires back without pausing. But the way Leno's collection came about isn't nearly as deliberate as his quick-fire gags.
Most of the cars were offered to him by acquaintances, or he simply came across them for sale in various places.
"Every now and again people call up and tell me they've got a particular car for sale and I buy it. There are people I know calling my wife up already, telling her, if I die, they'd like to buy this car or that bike."
It's difficult to believe that such a collection was assembled in such a random fashion, but then Leno does seem to have a tough time parting with his cars. He still has the 1954 Buick Roadmaster that he first drove to LA before he became a star, albeit restored and enhanced with Corvette parts for added pep.
I notice that the collection doesn't include any Ferraris or Porsches, although it does have two Lamborghini Miuras and a mid-engined, turbo-charged Ford Festiva (aka mid-1980s Mazda 121).
"There's a lot of cars I don't have," he quips. "I'm just interested in cars that have historical significance, or are technically interesting." Which explains the V-twin Morgan three-wheeler, the century-old Baker electric car (like a horse carriage being drawn by invisible ghost horses). And the gigantic, homemade "Chrysler" hot-rod weighing four tons and powered by two Panzer tank engines - he's about to fit a couple of turbos to give it over 1,600 horsepower.
Surely this monster isn't legal, I ask? "Oh, sure. In fact, it's registered with the DVLA as a vintage Chrysler, so it's perfectly street legal."
"And do you drive it?"
"Yeah. Everything here runs and I'll take them out on the street whenever I can."
How do people react to Jay Leno driving along in these cars? "Most people smile and wave, some give me the finger - it depends really . . ."
With that he's off to tell another story about another car. It's entertaining stuff, just as you'd expect from the man.
While the likes of his MacLaren F1, Shelby Mustang GT 350, Dodge Charger R/T, Bugattis, Deusenbergs, Bentleys and brand-new Ford GT look right at home in his collection, the fresh-out-of-the-box MacLaren Mercedes SLR stands out like a sore thumb. As far as I can make out, it's just been given to him by Mercedes-Benz of North America - the group I'm sharing my tour with includes the Mercedes' MD for the US.
Later, Leno admits the MacLaren Mercedes is "rich guy" stuff, and isn't really his cup of tea. He is much more entertained by his Jet bike, which he's keen to demonstrate. He asks one of his four, full-time employees - their job is to repair, restore and maintain his nearly 200-strong collection of cars and bikes - to get him a gallon or two of aviation fuel, as you do, before powering up the bike's jet turbine and taking off across the yard and off down the road at an alarming rate.
A minute later he's back and the 240mph-plus bike is howling like a 747 fresh from a transatlantic hop. He jumps off and draws our attention to the licence plate. An LED dot-matrix display warns drivers to stay back from the jet wash. Not bad advice considering the exhaust fumes are close to 800 degrees Fahrenheit. "I melted a guy's bumper in traffic, one time," he laughs. "It gets kinda hot."
As fascinating as the showrooms are, the workshop is where Leno is happiest. Several cars are being worked on, including his Robin steam-cars, an Oldsmobile Tornado and a Chevrolet Corvette which has been stripped to the bare chassis for undisclosed modifications.
He tinkers with a pre-war Bugatti as we chat and I can tell our time is running out by the way his eyes are wandering around the workshop. He's got nuts to tighten and fingernails to get greasy.
A last word about modified cars and the "chopper" motorcycle craze fuelled by several custom bike builder reality TV shows . . . anything that gets kids working with or interested in cars and bikes is a good thing, he feels. He's not a big fan of sound systems and DVDs. He likes power and speed and character.
After a few photos, he excuses himself. Jay Leno's got a vacation to enjoy, so we must leave him in peace. Shame, because I could talk cars with him all day long - but then that's just me being a little awe-struck. Not by Jay Leno. It's the cars. Honest.