Want To Know What A Real Dad Looks Like?
Read Every Single Word & Learn.
Note: About once a month, MYM takes a break from marketing advice and focuses on personal development topics. We call this ongoing series “Personal Edge”. Enjoy!
“If you ever lie to me again, I’m not going to say a word. I’m just going to punch you in the jaw as hard as I can.”
Message received. Loud and clear.
For my 16th birthday, my dad got me a pickup truck. Which sounds like a cool story until you realize that it was an old yellow, beat up stick-shift Toyota pickup that he salvaged somehow from one of the many properties he managed. No air conditioner. An old-style push button AM radio. A couple of random dents. In other words, a total piece of junk.
But it was my piece of junk, and I was the only one of my friends that was both old enough to drive and actually had a vehicle to drive.
Less than a week after I got my driver’s license, my buddy and I hatched a brilliant plan. After a church swim party at my house, we decided that we wanted to give two young ladies a ride home. Small problem: the cab of the truck was impossibly tiny—only two people could fit comfortably. If a 3rd person dared to wedge into the middle of the bench seat, their knees would be constantly be playing pinball with the gear shift knob. Four people would never fit in a million years. So I knew there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in Hades that my parents would allow me to take the girls home.
So I didn’t ask.