On the day of my arrival, Dad informed me that if I was interested, he already had a job lined up for me. A Auto Supply had a tire shop outback. I wasn’t going to get rich here, but the potential to turn into something really great there. At 18 years old, opportunities like this can be right in front of your face and yet impossible to see.
State-mandated tests that were administered to me during high school suggested that I could go for higher-than-average career goals. The guidance counselors did their best to encourage me, to push me, to beat me into submission with constant reasons why it was my duty to do something about my career. If it was only this, that would be fine. But a few years earlier back in 1978 through 1981, I had gone through a barrage of being drilled by my mother's ex-boyfriend Richard. He was full of massive amounts of information, requirements, and rules that said I had no choice but to make a decision now about what I wanted to do with my life. This pressure had a cadence to it. He was a member of the Franco-American club. We would go sit down at a table in these establishments. He loved his wine. He would order that up for him and my mother and order my sisters and me microscopic Gingerale full of ice cubes for way too much money.
While we sat there, he drilled me over and over and over about how I needed to do something with my life. I purposely created a dialogue that worked in opposition to everything he said. I was not going to be told about what I had to do with my life. I never realized how hard I worked at this, but it actually reprogrammed my brain and way of thinking about everything too. Sadly, in Richard’s defense, he was only trying to save me. His life started out OK. He had joined the Navy. Later he became an auxiliary state police officer. I never did hear the story about how he ended up becoming a simple factory worker, no doubt it had something to do with the reasons behind why he drank the wine. In his heart, he wanted to pass on to me that information that is such a treasure, a key to success for a young man, if only I could understand it. Not only did I not understand it, but I built up an incredible fortification to protect me from anybody who wanted to tell me what to do with my life. I had rehearsed words that would not only stop them but discourage them to the point of ultimate frustration. As Richard put it one time, “You sound like you’ve lost already? “ That is somewhat painful to look back on because actually, Richard was right. This alternate training that I created also made it difficult to see opportunities in my path.
The deal my Dad had worked out with Charlie was that Monday through Saturday I would run the tire shop, making $20 a day if nothing happened. Once I had a certain amount of repairs I would make a percentage. This wasn’t a bad deal because the city of Port Aransas had a deal with A Auto Supply to service their truck tires. My dad took me back into the tire shop and very skillfully and methodically taught me everything that I needed to know. I went with it.
A Auto Supply was a great place to work. It had a dartboard in one of the aisles. During downtimes, we would all sip on our particular brand of beer and throw darts. We used the Coke machine as a cooler. The Coke machine had six slots in it to dispense different brands of soda. We would put beer into the top end of those slots and you would just have to make sure that you replenished the soda when it was getting low or a customer might actually end up at the Budweiser, Schlitz, Lone Star, or Coors, you get the idea.
I met a lot of really great people working in this tire shop. It was always a wonderful thing to have somebody drive up to the back door and need something. I recall a conversation at our kitchen table months later. My dad was talking about the opportunity that A Auto Supply really was. He told me, “If I were you Mike, I would own that place. Not literally own it, but I would learn everything I possibly could on the parts counter. I would look up stuff about your car and ask Mike if you could look up things for a customer every now and then. He would show you.“
I never did turn that tire shop in the back of A Auto Supply into anything other than what was initially shown to me by my Dad. The basic skills of mounting tires, balancing tires, and working on split rims became knowledge I will never lose. But this tire shop could’ve been something so much more. Port Aransas was a small island. I could have offered mobile repair services. I could’ve added other simple services for a price. I did the occasional oil change and I could’ve expanded that dramatically from where I was. I just couldn’t see it. If I could go back and be one of those customers who approached that garage door and had my 18-year-old self walk out and greet now, me, all the things I would say. I don’t know if they would make any sort of difference. It is through the mistakes, the struggles, the losses, and the pain that we learn.
This is not about a tire shop. This is not about the loss of opportunity. The building where A Auto Supply stood does not even exist anymore. Hurricane Harvey obliterated Mustang Island five years ago. This is about all the opportunities that we’ve had and taken for granted. It’s about having people in your life that you appreciate and remembering that you thought that they would just always be there. It’s about people who made efforts on your behalf and you did not recognize them. Most of all this is about pausing in the cyclonic turmoil that daily life is now, and asking myself if is there something that I can show appreciation for right now. Is there someone that needs to hear it from me right now? If I can do that then maybe all the missed opportunities to do so, hundreds of thousands of them, will not be for nothing.
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