So, here's the connection: I used to fly in to the San Diego airport when I was returning from business trips; Mike would pick me up in his Lambo, turning heads. (Women would actually run up to the car to give Mike their phone numbers.)

But, as for me, I didn’t like his car! My suitcase didn’t fit in the trunk! I had to cradle my luggage in my lap on the way home, and I couldn’t see out the window!

That's why I’d rather Mike pick me up in his Mazda. Don't misread what I'm saying: There’s nothing wrong with nice cars. I know a lot of successful people who have really nice cars. For me, however, owning a nice car would keep me from being a successful entrepreneur.

There’s something ridiculously awesome about driving around in a Ferrari or a McLaren. You will absolutely turn heads. These cars are flashy, loud and powerful. You’ve “made it,” and have the goods to prove it. You’re sexy, and you know it. But that’s about it.

Fancy car ownership is all about the feeling you get. The feeling of novelty. Of importance.

I’ve driven a Ferrari before. I've even made some nice money by creating publicity for an exotic car dealership. But that’s not my real passion or interest in life.

Sure, some people are true car hobbyists or collectors. But far too many people just want to experience the feeling. Eventually, they realize that it wears off after a while and they're stuck with a depreciating asset they can’t put too many miles on.

So, what is the car actually for? From a functional or practical perspective, not a whole lot.

I’ve engineered my life to be incredibly minimalist. I don’t own a home. I don’t own a car. I don’t have any major recurring expenses. I wear the same thing every day. I eat the same thing. My life is extremely simple. That’s the way I’ve designed it.

The more things I add into my life possessions, stuff, variety, etc. the more distracted I become. I can’t focus on the most important things, which for me are my businesses and my relationships.

A personal vehicle falls into the category of “distracting.” I don’t want the extra payments, hassle, repairs, maintenance, upkeep and worry of owning it. And most of all, I don’t want the distraction of wanting to speed around the racetrack instead of working. Besides, I don’t need it, because I have Uber or other options for transportation.

Plus, I’ve done the math. I spend roughly 8.2 hours a week in a car. That’s around 426 hours per year. Some people spend more time in their cars each week. I don’t really have to drive to work, but I have to go to meetings.

Assuming that the average person spends 40 hours a week working, I am gaining 10.5 work weeks more than my competition. In essence, I am able to work more hours each year than my competition can, because I don’t drive, while they do.

As an entrepreneur, time is money. There isn’t enough time in the day. The company that executes the fastest tends to win. By using Uber and not driving, I gain 10.5 weeks a year on my competition.

Okay, so not everything in life needs to make “business sense,” but I always think about cars in that category. I used to drive around on the cheap. I just borrowed my parents' car. First, that meant an '89 Toyota Camry. A few years later, I upgraded to their '98 Honda Civic.

I soon realized, though, that my car was a distraction. I had to fill it with gas, get oil changes, figure out where to park it and try to drive in the crazy downtown Seattle traffic. What a waste of time! So, I gave the car to a friend. He had to pay for gas and insurance, of course, but the car was his. My only condition? He had to give me a ride when I needed it. Basically, I had Uber before there was Uber.