MyJob-Pic2 Midnight was quickly approaching. My office was quiet. Only the tapping on my keyboard broke the silence. It’s no secret I complete the lion’s share of my writing well after hours. It’s a time when I can become lost in my thoughts, and am free of distraction. Phone calls, meetings, and e-mails all have a way of breaking my focus; the piling on makes it a struggle to regain it.

I pecked away at the keyboard in an effort to hammer out my blog post and answer some member questions before calling it a night. A chime from my computer broke the silence and alerted me of an incoming e-mail message. On most nights I ignore these interruptions, preferring to keep to the task at hand. Moments later a brief glance at the message in my inbox told me it was from Bruce Werven, a good friend who owns and operates Car Crop, a vintage car salvage yard in Cavalier, ND. The subject line of Bruce’s e-mail simply read, “Yep, my job sucks…sometimes.” I returned to the blog post that had kept me up so late.

Midnight came and passed, and my attempts to put Bruce’s haunting e-mail subject line out of my head were pointless. I soon found myself pondering how Bruce could not enjoy scouring the northern countryside in search of vintage iron as a sort of modern day treasure hunter, and building a solid online business finding buyers across the globe willing to reward him for his efforts. To me, it was the perfect job.

Finally, curiosity got the best of me. I opened Bruce’s e-mail to discover just one line of text that read, “It’s been hell up here, Mark!” I scrolled down his message to view a half dozen photos of his salvage yard with only the roofs of some cars exposed above the snow. He concluded his note with, “It’s hard to sell parts when you can’t get to them.”

MyJob-Pic1I stroked a few keys to reply, “Think spring.” And then I returned to completing my writing.

Once again I struggled to put my train of thought back on the rails. I reread my last few paragraphs before starting in. With my thoughts composed, I stretched my arms and legs before approaching the keyboard…and just as quickly my computer went black. I had accidentally hit the switch on the power strip beneath my desk, and I knew it had been quite some time since I last saved the file!

Bruce’s words came rushing back to me, “My job sucks…sometimes.” Then I paused for a moment and reflected upon all the great cars I have seen and people I have met who share my passion, and then added to Bruce’s statement, “…but I wouldn’t trade it for any other”, I am certain Bruce would agree.

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