
I've spent most of my life around fathers.
Not because I set out to, but because the automobile business has a way of introducing you to them every day.
Over the years, I've watched fathers buy their teenager's first car. I've seen dads spend weeks researching the safest vehicle they could afford because they knew their son or daughter would soon be driving alone. I've watched fathers walk into a dealership determined to negotiate every penny, not because they enjoyed haggling, but because they were trying to stretch the family budget a little further.
I've also spent 25 years taking calls on the radio from fathers who wanted to make the right automotive decision for their families. Sometimes they were shopping for a vehicle. Sometimes they were worried about a repair bill. Sometimes they were helping a son or daughter buy a car for the first time.
What I've learned is that being a dad has very little to do with cars and everything to do with responsibility.
Good fathers spend a lot of their lives worrying about people they love.
They worry when their children are young.
They worry when their children become teenagers.
They worry when their children become adults.
And if we're being honest, they never really stop worrying.
The older I get, the more I appreciate the sacrifices fathers make that often go unnoticed. They work long hours. They put their own wants on hold. They quietly carry burdens they rarely talk about because they believe it's their job to provide stability for the people who depend on them.
Most don't expect recognition.
Most don't ask for thanks.
They just keep showing up.
Father's Day is a wonderful opportunity to recognize the dads who are doing exactly that.
It's also a good reminder that fatherhood isn't defined by biology. Some of the best fathers I've known were stepfathers, grandfathers, uncles, coaches, mentors, and family friends who stepped into a role when someone needed them most.
Being a father may be something you're called.
Being a dad is something you do.
I only had 30 years with my son B.J. (pictured with me) and I wish with all my heart there had been more. But Father's Day reminds me that I am still his father. That title didn't leave with him. It remains one of the greatest honors of my life.
So, this Father's Day, if you're fortunate enough to still have your dad, give him a call. If you're a father yourself, take a moment to appreciate the privilege that comes with that title. And if you're remembering a father who is no longer here, spend a few moments reflecting on the lessons he taught you and the example he set.
To all the dads who work hard, sacrifice quietly, worry constantly, and love unconditionally, thank you.
Here is a poem, just for you Dads:
What Makes a Dad
Take a moment and watch this short video about how Dads answer the calls of their children. This brought good memories for me: