Worth the Wait
The Power of Delayed Gratification
Good morning my friend!
I hope you’re having a good week. I’m in Easton, MD spending some time with my daughter, son-in-law, and six grandkids. Exhausting but fun. I really needed this.
One of the highlights was working with clay. I’m taking these back home to Tennessee to fire them, then the kids will select their glazes while talking to me on FaceTime and the I’ll finish them and they can eat and drink out of them.
But this picture is the real story of today. Little hands pulling on me saying “Grandpa Mack, Grandpa Mack can you help me put my handle on?”
I needed this. After the shitstorm that 2026 has been, I needed to spend the day with my grandkids. People who were fighting to be next to me. And who put their clay-covered hands all over me as we learned to make a cup together.
If you’ve ever made an impulse buy or spent money on something you should have waited for, then this week’s story is for you. I hope you enjoy it.
It’s 1981, and my first car, the one that is really all mine, is a 1974 Chevy LUV mini pickup. I want a truck, specifically a Toyota 4×4, but there is no way I can afford one. A used Chevy LUV will have to suffice.
Chevy LUVs were manufactured in Japan by Isuzu. This was before Japan had fully earned its reputation for quality. Back then, Japanese products were often seen as cheap, disposable junk. As it turned out, this truck fit the stereotype.
At first, though, it’s a great ride. The truck is light orange, and there is hardly a scratch on her. To make it look more like the 4×4 I couldn’t afford, I add a roll bar with mounted KC lights. There is absolutely no need for them. I live in Southern California, FFS. But they look cool. Of course, I also install a killer stereo complete with, wait for it... a cassette player.
I adjust the windshield washer nozzles so I can spray water on pedestrians as I drive by. Then I top it off with two little stickers on the wing windows that read:
“If you value your life as much as I value this truck, don’t mess with it.”
I really wanted the version that included the word “fuck,” but I knew my parents wouldn’t approve.
My girlfriend, who would later become my ex-wife, isn’t impressed. She comes from a family with quite a bit of money, and this truck is undoubtedly “low class” in her eyes. Still, she doesn’t refuse to ride with me.
On a side note, this is just one of many things she considers low class. My favorite is her belief that drinking beer out of a bottle is low class. Ever since then, l take my beer in a bottle every time, thank you very much. I’ve never considered myself classy anyway.
One Friday evening, I’m driving to her house for a date. We’re going to see Superman: The Movie with Christopher Reeve. As I turn left out of my neighborhood, the setting sun blinds me. I don’t see a full-sized pickup coming from the left until it’s too late. We barely miss a direct collision, but his rear bumper catches my left front fender and rakes across the hood, tearing a giant gash in it.
I am devastated.
My girlfriend is embarrassed when I pick her up and she sees the damage.
The truck begins having other problems. It overheats constantly, and in the California heat, that’s a serious issue. One day it overheats on the freeway, and I have to be towed to a gas station for a new radiator hose.
I am rapidly losing faith in my truck.
Then, about three months later, as summer vacation approaches, I’m driving on the freeway when the truck starts shuddering violently. I limp it off the freeway and make it to my girlfriend’s house.
The diagnosis?
The camshaft has snapped in half.
Another quality escape from Isuzu, I guess.
Eventually, I tow it home, where it sits rusting in our backyard for nearly three years before finally being hauled off to the junkyard.
About a year before my Chevy LUV heads to the Happy Driving Ground, I start shopping for a dirt bike. I desperately want a Honda CR125 two-stroke. Unfortunately, I can only afford a used one.
Eventually, I find a 1974 model in The Auto Trader. The same year as my Chevy LUV.
That should have been a warning.
I was hoping for something newer, but this is what my budget allows. The bike has been painted with silver spray paint. It looks tired, worn out, and abused. The seat has been reupholstered with an old pair of denim jeans. One of the pockets sits right where your left butt cheek goes.
I start it up and take it for a test ride.
It seems to run okay.
I offer the seller $125.
He takes it.
When I get it home, I realize just how rough a shape it’s in. It’s loud, ugly, and looks like it lost a bar fight.
But it runs.
Or at least it does for a while.
A few weeks later, my dad, my brother, and I head out to Victorville to ride. Today much of that area is developed, but back then it was nothing but open desert.
We unload the bikes and fire them up.
Mine runs beautifully for about six minutes.
Then it quits.
And it never starts again.
I’m not mechanical, and I can’t afford to pay someone to fix it. So I push it into the backyard and lean it against my dead Chevy LUV.
As I stand there looking at the pathetic sight of a dead dirt bike propped against a dead truck, I wish I had a camera.
It would have made the perfect photograph.
More importantly, it would have captured an expensive lesson:
Don’t buy cheap shit.
Learn to delay gratification.
Shortly after the Chevy LUV is hauled away, I manage to sell the motorcycle for $75. The guy who buys it wants the motor for a powered paraglider.
I warn him about the engine.
He wants it anyway.
I remember hoping I’d never read a newspaper article about a guy falling out of the sky because he bought cheap shit from another guy who bought cheap shit.
I haven’t always been able to afford the best things. But when a purchase is important, or when it needs to last a long time, buying quality is usually the smartest move.
Settling for less than ideal is an easy habit to develop. I certainly did it when I was young and broke. Unfortunately, that habit followed me into adulthood. More than once, I found myself choosing the cheapest option available instead of the best one.
But this lesson isn’t just about trucks and motorcycles.
When have you settled for less than ideal in a job?
A career?
A friendship?
A relationship?
In each case, you were probably lonely, impatient, desperate, or simply tired of waiting. That’s understandable. When I wanted a dirt bike more than anything in the world, anything that remotely resembled a dirt bike seemed good enough.
Now, with the benefit of time and experience, I’d have waited.
I’d have saved my money.
I’d have bought the right bike.
What about you?
Where are you settling simply because you don’t have the patience, discipline, or confidence to wait?
Is what you want achievable but difficult to attain?
Will it take time, sacrifice, and hard work?
If so, it’s probably worth waiting for.
If I could do it over again, there would never have been a broken-down motorcycle leaning against a broken-down truck in my backyard.
But we don’t get to go back.
We only get to decide what happens next.
As for me, I’m going to try waiting for the best option, even if it costs more time and money.
Are you with me?
Have an AWEsome week,
