When Dad bought his first new Volvo, it happily coincided with my 16th birthday. Happily because rather than take the heavily discounted return from a dealer trade-in, he sold his 6-year-old VW Rabbit to me. It had a ton of commute miles on it, but was still in good condition. I had to learn how to drive a stick and spent the first 6 weeks or so nervous having to start up on any hill I happened to be on. But I got the hang of it eventually. The new freedom I got from my driver's license and from ownership of my own car was worth every penny I'd paid for it.
About 8 months or so after I'd purchased the car, I found myself cruising down I-680. Somewhere around the Stone Valley Road exit, the car shook for a moment and the engine RPM hit the redline, sending a huge plume of smoke out the tailpipe. The engine stalled and I managed to coast to the shoulder. After letting it cool for a few minutes, it started up and I took the side roads home. I took it to the mechanic the next day to have it checked out. The diagnosis was a bad head gasket and, although the engine could still run, it needed to be either rebuilt or replaced entirely. I was quoted a price range of $700 - $1200 to fix it. I was furious.
I went home and found Dad sitting on the living room couch, reading the evening newspaper. I told him about how the car was in need of huge repairs and how upset I was that he sold me such a junky car. Dad, without missing a beat and without even looking up from the newspaper, said simply, "That's the price you pay when you have the luxury of owning an automobile."
I managed to keep the car limping along at low speeds and continued to use it often, trying to figure out how I'd save up enough to get the engine work done. A few months later, I was hit while driving home from school. It was the other driver's fault. The insurance adjuster met me at the house to assess the damage. I spoke about how great a car it was and what good condition it was in (which was mostly true...besides, he never specifically asked about the engine). The insurance company totaled the car and paid me full blue book price for it: much more than I'd originally paid Dad for it. This event happily coincided with my brother buying a new car and he happily sold me his 5-year-old Toyota. All was well.
Dad came home from work and saw my new/used car parked in front of the house. "I see that worked out pretty well for you, didn't it?" he said, with a smile.
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A site dedicated to the memory of John Paul Ruszel.
About Dad
John Ruszel was, at different times in his life, a steelworker, a salesman, a chemist, an owner of a chain of delicatessens, the founding partner of a woodworking shop, and a small business entrepreneur. He had an undergraduate degree in chemistry and an MBA. He worked as a business liaison counseling business executives in Poland, Russia, and countless local shopkeepers. Of all of his life's achievements, he'd probably say his greatest and most important was his marriage to Margaret, his wife of 52 years, the seven children they'd raised and their thirteen grandchildren.
Contributors
Interested in Contributing?
It'd be great to have more authors to this site—I'd like to keep it as open and collaborative as possible. If you'd like to contribute your own posts, please email me and I'll add you on as an author. -t
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