Who knew snowy tow calls at 3 am would leave a lasting impact on me?
I grew up in a working-class family with a younger brother and my parents. My dad owned an autobody shop and my mom was mostly a stay-at-home mom until I was in high school. I remember my dad’s shop, the smell of different chemicals, the loud banging sounds, and the constant ringing of the phone. My father’s Pavlovian response to the phone ringing was to sigh or groan loudly because it meant he was either going on another tow call or someone was impatiently inquiring about the status of their car.
He worked a lot, from early mornings to late nights, and weekends too. What helped him stay in business was his reputation in town and that he offered 24-hour towing, and he never turned down a job. I still recall the rumbling sounds of his truck in the driveway, idling long enough to warm up before he would leave at 2:30 in the morning to help someone stranded.
This was before cell phones, too, so that person was likely stuck for quite a while.
My father was a good man - he was kind (to a fault) and fair to his customers; he didn’t believe in overcharging people to make a quick buck. He never ran a television or newspaper ad, but he always had customers. There was no social media at the time, not that he would have entertained that idea; he was quite content with his flip phone in the age of touch screens. I saw how much he cared about other people, and after he passed away from cancer in 2013, my hometown showed up in full force for his services. He was a genuine presence and a reliable fixture for many people in their time of need.
When Education Fails Those in Need
Despite his success in owning a business, he never read up on best practices, didn’t study marketing psychology, or take an accounting course; he didn’t finish high school. His educational upbringing was tough, and something he rarely spoke about. What little I do know is that he received corporal punishment for having the wrong book, opened to the wrong page, and it was upside down. While I was in high school, he would claim that he was dyslexic; however, I am not sure if that was accurate. I suspect that he likely had ADHD, was goofing off or daydreaming in class, was called out, and scrambled to appear like he was paying attention.
I knew so little about his education because it seemed to be a source of shame for him, and I never saw him reading or talking about books he had read. He was a Vietnam veteran, so for his birthday I got him a big picture book about the Marines thinking it would tempt him to want to open it. I don’t think he ever opened it past the cover. Perhaps the topic and images were too much and made him uncomfortable, I don’t know.
My educational upbringing was somewhat akin to my father’s, except for the physical punishment. I struggled in school, I resented reading and only saw it as an obligation, and I was always up late trying to make sense of my homework, if I remembered to bring it home. My self-efficacy was about as low for a learner as it could be, and this would remain that way up into high school. I, like my father, had internalized the notion that I was “dumb” but could be smart in other ways.
For instance, my father would not sit and read casually; however, if you put a backhoe in front of him or equipment that allowed him to use his hands, he would be grinning the whole time. His working knowledge and practical sense demonstrated the talents and abilities of a person with intelligence; he just didn’t have the support and educational environment to foster it in an academic sense.
Bonding Despite our Differences Through our Similarities
I happened to learn more about his disability because in high school I was being tested for ADHD, and would receive support once my IEP was created. My dad was old school in the sense that he would suffer in silence, but I remember him teaching me how to drive and trying to explain to me (the best he could) what was happening because of my testing and how things were going to change. He framed it as, “You’re bright, but you struggle to get your work done. You have trouble remembering things.”
This was one of the few instances I remember where my dad was trying to earnestly engage with me about my education. I also distinctly remember at the age of eight sitting in his office complaining about doing my homework. I guess I must’ve mentioned enough times that he sat me down and explained that learning was my job, and homework was the important yet tedious aspect of that job. “Look, I don’t want to fill out these estimates or the paperwork, but if I don’t, the customers won’t get the right parts, and the guys won’t be able to do their jobs.”
I didn’t see eye-to-eye with my dad on a lot of things, so to have this conversation with him about something impacting me was important. I think it might have helped him to know that I was struggling similarly to how he did, but I wasn’t dumb so neither was he. At least, I hope that was the case. He was not dumb, and I am frustrated for him that he had to live his life believing he was less than just because he struggled in school.
Eventually, I went off to college. I was now in a foreign space both physically and academically. I couldn’t call my dad to ask for advice when I was having trouble in college. If my car was making a funny noise or if I needed an oil change, he would walk me through the process. However, when I tried to engage him in my new experiences, he would tighten up on me and the conversation would grind to a halt. He would be proud of me for my grades, but he had a hard time expressing that pride.
An Indelible Mark Left
The reason I started my business was in part an homage to my father’s memory. Like him, I went for a conventional career route, becoming a teacher because it was concrete and made sense from a practical perspective. However, unlike my father, I did not want to feel “stuck” to just one career trajectory. I know he sighed when the phone rang because a small part of him wished he could have been somewhere else. The calls at 3 am during a snowstorm and begrudgingly getting up to tow someone was what he felt he had to do to support his family.
Despite my father’s preference for conventional thinking, he was creative too. I remember seeing charcoal drawings he made along with a bust of the head of a German shepherd he once owned and loved. I didn’t think much of these things at the time because he didn’t elaborate on them, but I wish he had. What he might have lacked in an academic sense, he more than made up in creativity, curiosity, and a willingness to try. His hard-working attitude and unwavering commitment to his customers were what helped to keep his shop open while so many others came and went.
As I’ve grown older, I see more of him in myself - I work hard to help others and I believe in doing what is right for other people. I refuse to give up on students who struggle because I know the value of being a persistent source of support. I believe my dad was a good parent because he didn’t just speak in “shoulds”; he demonstrated it to my brother and me daily. I find myself talking to my girls and thinking to myself, “That’s something dad would say.” Then I smile to myself and continue.
Dad, you might not have always realized it, but you did a lot for me just by being yourself.
Every job I’ve ever had I have compared my efforts to that of my father. Was I doing enough, working enough, and helping enough? If age and experience truly begets wisdom, then the realization that comparing myself to him was always going to diminish my sense of achievement and happiness. My sense of accomplishment needs to be defined by me, and once I started setting goals for myself that were authentic, I found working to those goals became easier. My father's influence on my entrepreneurship was always there, I just needed to recognize it.
Dad's Influence on Entrepreneurship: Why I Started My Business
I believe in treating people with respect and supporting others. I see this business as an opportunity to make my mark in my way. I am excited by all the challenges it presents, and I intend to do right by others in my father’s memory and as a role model for my girls. My daughters never got to meet their grandpa, but some of my best qualities as a father come from my dad, and I am excited to teach them more about their grandpa when they get older.
Every day that I complain or stress about my job, I remind myself of being eight years old waking up to the rumble of a tow truck. The intense cold hitting my window and seeing my dad's shadow getting into the truck, as he had hundreds of times before, to go help another person in their time of need.
Frank V. Horvath, III born Oct. 5th, 1949 - Died December 10th, 2013.
Husband, father, hard worker, and veteran.
Your dad would truly be so proud of you