Silver Thunderbird | The Value of Experience Over End Result

Day 1686. 233 lbs. lost.

Dave wiped the sweat from his brow and patted down his torn jeans to brush off the dirt. He pinched his lips and spit out the chew that had been soaking in his right cheek for an hour. He’d been rummaging around the junkyard for quite some time. Standing there now, he stared at it—he’d finally found it.

A rare Thunderbird.

It wasn’t much to look at: rusted-out lights, torn upholstery, and a dented tailfin. You could barely tell it had once been silver—the paint was so faded it had lost its original luster. But when Dave looked at it, he didn’t see the rust or the dents. He saw what it could be. And in that moment, that was all that mattered.

He’d never restored a car before, but he was up for the challenge. He loaded the heap onto a flatbed and hauled it home.

Once he got it back to the farm, he reached out to Ford and said, “Hey, I’ve got this rare car I’m going to restore, and when it’s done, I’d love to share it with the community.” Ford never responded.

Dave was a farmer, always up at the crack of dawn, with his responsibilities on the farm coming first. But as soon as his chores were done, he’d take off like a shot to the shed where he kept the Thunderbird. The first few weeks were spent sanding it down and removing parts too damaged to salvage.

Every now and then, a friend would roll up and say, “C’mon, Dave, let’s go,” but he wouldn’t budge. After several months, even the neighbors were whispering, “There he goes, working on that car again,” shaking their heads in disbelief. To them, it was junk. But to Dave, it was a pearl.

At his granddaughter’s suggestion, he started an online group to document his journey—the challenges, the triumphs, and everything in between. Some days were brutal: an electrical failure here, a snapped engine hoist chain there, and even an oil explosion that led to a fire. He laughed about the time he kicked the car door so hard in frustration that he had to spend hours fixing the dent. But there were also victories: the day a light flickered on, the first part successfully installed, the moment the radio finally worked.

The project took much longer than Dave had anticipated. Money for parts ran out. Energy waned. But he kept going, chipping away at it when he could.

People started asking about it: “When’s it going to be done? When can we see it?”

Finally, one day, he opened the garage door, and out rolled the shiny, silver Thunderbird. It wasn’t finished—the interior still needed work—but Dave couldn’t resist taking it out for a spin. The neighbors, who’d once dismissed it as junk, stood on the street, wide-eyed, murmuring, “Well, I’ll be…”

A few weeks later, a Ford executive showed up at the farm with a sales rep named Jake. The executive, chewing on an unlit cigar and speaking with a Southern drawl, said, “Dave, we’d love to have this car. We’ll stick it in the showroom for the world to see. The community’s gonna love it. And Jake here—he loves Thunderbirds—he’ll talk it up to everyone.”

Dave stood there, confused.

*Athena pauses*

Now, between you and me, dear reader, there are a lot of Jakes out there. Sure, Jake’s passion for Thunderbirds might make him a great salesman, but he wasn’t there when the engine fell out. He didn’t deal with the fire, the sparks, or the frustration. Jake didn’t experience the months of saving up for parts or the sheer determination it took to keep going.

*Athena leans back in her chair with a groan*

Dave looked at the Ford exec, spit his chew, and said, “Jake’s gonna go around talking about the car? You see, it was never about the car. The car’s just the end result. It was always about the process—the joy of the journey—and being able to share that story.”

Turning to walk away, Dave called over his shoulder, “Jake, you can talk about the car if you want, but maybe take it for a drive first. Roll the windows down, feel the wind. Then, when someone asks, at least you’ll know what it feels like.”

Today’s lesson: There’s no substitution for experience. 

What the Ford execs don’t seem to understand is that most people won’t be impressed by a simple demonstration of starting up this renovated car. They’re going to have a thousand questions, like:

• How did you track down the electrical problem?
• Where did you find the parts, and what did you have to replace? How hard were they to source?
• What made you choose the tires and upholstery?
• Did you use a lot of bondo?
• How hard was it to find door panels, or were they already intact?

Oh…. The secrets that old car … and Dave would know……

What is this story about? Well…… You can read about it in the upcoming book “Waitless“.

Me? I wanna go down in a silver Thunderbird.