NFA Finance

I realized something recently.

I might need to lighten the hell up.

Not in life. I’m actually having a pretty damn good time.

I mean in my writing.

If you read enough of my stuff, you’d probably think I wake up every morning at 4:30, stare into the sunrise, write down seven principles of discipline, do 100 push-ups, analyze a business acquisition, and then spend the rest of the day contemplating the meaning of compound growth.

Which…

Okay.

That’s not completely inaccurate.

But there’s another side to this whole thing.

Sometimes I wake up and think:

You know what would be a great idea? Driving 2,000 miles this week.

Then somewhere around mile 1,600, with a leaking differential, a cigar in my mouth, coffee in the cupholder and another five hours left to drive, I start questioning who exactly approved this plan.

Oh yeah.

Me.

I approved it.

That’s basically how most of my life works.

I have an idea.

I get excited about the idea.

I immediately begin executing the idea.

Then somewhere halfway through execution I realize the idea has created approximately 37 additional ideas, three mechanical problems, two potential businesses and something else I now need to order on eBay.

And I love every second of it.

Mostly.

I’ve spent a lot of years around people who want life to be calm.

Predictable.

Easy.

Everything organized.

Everything planned.

Nothing breaking.

Nothing unexpected.

That sounds fucking terrible to me.

Give me the old truck.

Give me the road trip.

Give me the ridiculous project nobody understands yet.

Give me the car that needs something fixed.

Give me a cigar, a strong cup of coffee and a notebook full of ideas that probably shouldn’t all be attempted at the same time.

That feels normal.

The funny part is, the older I get, the less interested I am in pretending otherwise.

I’m 47 years old.

I know what I like.

Cars.

Business.

Building things.

Good coffee.

Good cigars.

Making money.

Spending entirely too much time thinking about vehicles that GM stopped producing 20 years ago.

And occasionally turning a perfectly good automobile into a six-month project because I decided one little thing could be better.

Some guys golf.

Actually, I golf too.

But apparently I also find relaxation in staring at an engine bay thinking:

“I bet I can improve that.”

There are worse problems to have.

I talk a lot about discipline because discipline changed my life.

I talk about systems because systems work.

I talk about building because I genuinely believe you should keep building something until the day they put you in the ground.

But none of that means you’re supposed to turn life into some miserable productivity contest.

The whole damn point of building a life is eventually getting to enjoy the life you’re building.

And I do.

Even when it’s chaotic.

Even when something breaks.

Even when the road trip gets longer than expected.

Even when I have ten projects happening and probably need about four more employees.

There’s a strange kind of fun in all of it.

Maybe that’s actually the secret.

Find work that doesn’t always feel like work.

Find projects you can’t stop thinking about.

Build things that make you laugh sometimes.

Buy the ridiculous car.

Take the road trip.

Drink the coffee.

Smoke the cigar.

And every once in a while, stop trying to turn everything into a goddamn life lesson.

Sometimes you’re just having fun.

And that’s enough.

— Nick
Still building. Still having fun.