It's funny how things come back around sometimes -- things you'd never expect. Pondering the tagline "How Do You Measure?" about a week ago now, I was suprised by a sight I never expected to see again. I should add that this coincides with the launch of our clothing line, Cocksure Clothing Co., USA. You no doubt wonder what it's all about, hence your reading this post, and to me, this serves as a pretty good example of the deeper meaning of this prominent tagline, and a facet of the philosophy behind this clothing line in general.
I came across something that takes me (not too far) back to my formative teenage years, and memories of my recently-enough deceased father...my Dad, who gave me at least half the skills I now have (and thanks and love to my Mom for the other half). Usually when someone is gone and we long to touch memories of them, we're usually hoping for a good recognizance of associated emotions that strike the right chord. I recently received more reality than that.
Pictured here is The Car that I first learned to drive at age 15, and drove quite a lot once I turned 16 and 17.
Yeah, pretty sweet, huh? No, we weren't rich, or spoiled, at all. In fact, we grew up poor, and when the chance for my parents to buy this car from a neighborhood mechanic came around, they were fortunate enough to be reaching a pinnacle in their careers that allowed them to afford such a luxury. The irony of it is, this car costs today very close to what they paid for it back then, and plenty of time has elapsed where that should probably not be the case. We're probably talking not-even-a-$5,000 car back then. Turn your head back and forth real quick, and you may think, "Hey...Isn't that Magnum P.I.?"
But when I say this is The Car, I'm not talking a similar vehicle, approximate year, or anything like that. I mean, same VIN # / The Car! Kapuutth! Don't make me laugh, 'cause I'm not even kidding. (I'm talking the "same-scratches-on-the-bared-metal-clutch-and-gas-pedals-I-know-because-I-put-them-there" brand of I'm-not-even-kidding that only comes from telling the absolute truth.) I haven't even put eyes on this memory since it was sold resulting from frequent electrical system complications and a drop top that is a real beast to fasten (read, "literal...buttons") when a summer storm is fast upon you. It's very funny this car should appear, in a yard, for sale, within a relatively small mile or kilometer radius from my dwelling. Not only that, it was placed along a frequent route of mine, just at a turning point where I would sweep it in with the arc of my gaze just to make sure I was safely turning homeward.
What you have to know about this sporty car in a family of four (including my younger brother), is that it was all about The Teams. It's all about the Teams, and it's all about The Missons. Who's going where? Who's with whom? Is it Mom and bro? Is it Dad and me? Do I get to to drive? Is it Mom and Dad? Where they going? What we gotta do?
You know. The Teams. The Missions. The Car. Of all the cars we had, and we had many, many unique and cheap ones...I'm talking Gremlins and Pugeots, okay, mixed in with the Dodges and Fords and Chevys...yeah, we had about everything once, it seems. Well, let's say more like, every category.
But out of all of those, this was, again, The Car, you know? So why would this, of all cars, be revealed now? Why would it show for sale again right before the launch time, aside, of course, from the shotty electrical system?
I can't help but think notice that my father had a lot to do with this, if you stop to consider all the cause-and-effects that transpired over the years in order to bring that car that my Dad taught me to drive in to a specific point on the road in the present, right at the launch of what is surely the boldest yet most serious t-shirt company of all time, aka "The Feeling of Streaking Without Being Naked." You should know the car pictured above, a 1980 Triumph TR7 convertible, is not even the car in which I took my driving test. No, that was a Dodge E350 Cargo Van, a true mastadon, by comparison, but that's my Dad's sense of humor for you...the ol' rope-a-dope, heheheh...that guy. He did promise me he would make me prepared, though, and he did not lie. Among many other things, pay attention to details, and read the signs.
So, "How Do You Measure Success?"
I dunno. How do you?
Happy Father's Day to all fathers, past, present and future -- and especially to my Dad, may God keep you.