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There wasn’t a birthday.

There wasn’t some magical morning when I woke up, looked in the mirror, and thought, Well, I guess I’m officially an adult now.

It didn’t happen when I got my driver’s license.

It didn’t happen when I moved out.

It didn’t even happen when I opened my first car lot at 22 years old.

If I had to pinpoint when I really became an adult, it was when I finally understood one simple truth:

Nobody’s coming to save you.

That sounds harsh, but I don’t mean it that way.

I actually think it’s one of the most freeing things a person can ever realize.

When you’re a kid, there’s usually somebody above you. Something goes wrong, and you look for a parent, a teacher, a coach—somebody who knows what to do.

Then one day, without anybody announcing it, you become the person everybody else is looking at.

I learned that pretty young.

I grew up around cars and garages. I went to auctions with my grandfather. I learned the business from people who had been doing it long before I came along.

But eventually I wasn’t standing beside somebody else’s business anymore.

I had my own.

At 22 years old, I had a car lot in Dundee, Michigan, with 15 or 20 cars sitting there.

And suddenly everything had my name attached to it.

The bills were mine.

The inventory was mine.

The customers were mine.

When a car broke, it was my problem.

When a deal went sideways, it was my problem.

When the month sucked, there wasn’t somebody else coming through the door to make payroll or figure out how to turn it around.

Figure it out.

I think those might be the three words that define adulthood better than anything else.

Because that’s what life becomes.

Figure it out.

You make money. You lose money.

You build businesses. Sometimes they work. Sometimes they don’t.

You trust people. Sometimes you’re right. Sometimes you’re very fucking wrong.

You become a father.

You buy houses.

You pay bills.

You make mistakes that cost you more than money.

You get knocked down.

And somewhere along the way you realize there isn’t a referee who’s going to blow the whistle, stop the game, and make everything fair.

Life doesn’t work like that.

You get up and keep moving.

But here’s the funny part.

I’m 47 years old now, and I’m not sure I feel like what I thought a 47-year-old adult was supposed to feel like.

I’m still in the garage turning wrenches.

I’m still building cars.

I’m still starting businesses.

I’m still making videos.

I’m still coming up with ideas that probably sound crazy to somebody else.

I’m still excited when an engine fires after I’ve had the damn thing torn apart.

I’m still trying things I’ve never done before.

I’m still chasing something.

And I hope that never changes.

Because maybe we misunderstand adulthood.

Maybe becoming an adult isn’t about becoming serious all the time.

Maybe it isn’t about giving up the things that excited you when you were younger.

Maybe it isn’t about reaching some age where you’re finally supposed to have everything figured out.

Hell, the older I get, the more I realize nobody has everything figured out.

The difference is that eventually you stop waiting for somebody else to give you permission.

You stop waiting for somebody to tell you what to do.

You stop waiting for somebody to rescue you.

You look at whatever is sitting in front of you and say:

I’ll figure it out.

That’s adulthood.

And maybe growing up doesn’t mean killing the kid inside you who wanted to build cool cars, create something of his own, take chances and see what’s around the next corner.

Maybe your responsibility is exactly the opposite.

You’ve got to protect that part of yourself.

Feed it.

Give it somewhere to go.

Because bills will always be there.

Problems will always be there.

Responsibilities will always be there.

There will always be another Monday morning.

But you only get one life.

So yeah, I grew up a long time ago.

I’ve carried adult responsibilities for most of my life.

But I’m still building.

Still dreaming.

Still curious.

Still getting my hands dirty.

And I’m nowhere near finished.

Maybe adulthood isn’t the moment you stop being a kid.

Maybe it’s the moment you realize you’re responsible for keeping that kid’s dreams alive.

— Nick Francis
Modern Day Dealer