Why Scraping By is the Best Lesson
The curse of entitlement. The blessings of scrapping, stretching, and solving.
Hello Bar-setters!
In the spring of 2005, my parents bought me a 1992 Mazda Navajo. No AC, no heat, and it smelled like tar. But it ran—and I was free.
A few months in, the battery died. I replaced it. Then it died again. A mechanic told me I had a “dead draw”—something was draining the battery even when the car was off. Fixing it would cost hundreds. Or I could open the hood after every drive and pull out the second fuse from the bottom. So that’s what I did—for years.
I used to joke that my car was so valuable, it required two keys.
One cold night, I dropped the fuse while trying to reinsert it. After 20 frustrating minutes in the dark, I found it. The next day, I bought a pack of spare fuses for five bucks. Lesson learned.
That winter, the car began to shut off every time I came to a stop at a stoplight. I learned that I had to warm the old thing up for 15 minutes before driving during the winter. Once, the rearview mirror fell off mid-date. None of this was ideal, but I certainly didn’t deserve any better. I had a car that my parents provided for me. I was lucky.
I’ve told these stories a dozen times, and every time someone chimes in with their own clunker story. My favorite came from a colleague whose car would die on a specific turn unless she manually held the ignition key in place through the curve.
A Rite of Passage Worth Keeping
These experiences were once normal. Part of becoming an adult was making do with less-than-ideal circumstances. Old cars, drafty dorms, tight budgets—they forged independence, grit, and a sense of humor. And these qualities are a much greater gift than any car could ever be. They shape our choices, our relationships, and our responses to life’s inevitable setbacks.
I’m not saying every kid’s first car should be falling apart. I hope to be able to pass down a car to my kids that they can rely on to get them through college and beyond. But unless your teen is a 16-year-old entrepreneur pulling enough to pay for whatever he or she wants, I firmly believe their first car should be nothing fancy.
Likewise, their college housing setup should be meager.
Let them taste what it’s like to scrap, stretch, and solve. These experiences often provide the most valuable lessons.
When Parents Eat Noodles So Their Kids Can Eat Sushi
A colleague of mine has two kids in college. One day we were talking about the joys and sacrifices of parenting—daycare, diapers, clothes, healthcare, travel. Then he said something that floored me:
“You do what you can to make their lives special. My wife and I may be eating spaghetti leftovers two nights in a row, but at least they’re eating great and having an awesome experience.”
By eating great, he didn’t mean healthy. He meant restaurant food, nightlife, the works. After 30+ years of hard work, he and his wife were scraping by so their college-aged kids could live like royalty.
Insane. But not uncommon.
The Pageantry Trap
Over the past few decades, we’ve normalized a bizarre belief: that every moment of childhood must be magical, curated, and special.
You’ll often hear parents say, “You have to take your kids to Disney.”
Rarely do you hear, “You have to make sure your kids have chores.”
Or, “Your sons need to work a manual labor job. They need to be ready to govern their lives and manage money by 18.”
It sounds funny—but it reveals exactly what’s gone wrong in our youth development culture.
We obsess over what we give kids, not over who they’re becoming—not on the type of person we want to raise.
We fixate on trophies, fancy uniforms, and elaborate award ceremonies—we shower our kids with gifts, treats, and entertainment—while ignoring the traits that actually matter:
Grit
Gratitude
Problem-solving
The dignity of earning something hard
Our kids aren’t to blame. But they’ll be the ones who pay the price.
My point isn’t that gifts are bad. Rather, it is that we should make the main thing the main thing. Our job is to create great people. To do that we often need to:
Give them less. Let them build more.
That’s how we raise people who can set out into the world—and thrive.
Thank you for reading and sharing with any kindred spirits!
If you enjoyed, check out this past post:
Shane
I had a 1991 Toyota Previa that my grandparents happened to be getting rid of the year I turned 16. Otherwise, I don't think I would have had a car until I could buy one.
I had a similar story about my starter going bad. Spend for a replacement or the mechanic taught me how to whack it with a hammer to loosen it up and get it to turn over. So, naturally, I started carrying a small hammer and a flash light. I can remember dozens of times I had to crawl under the car in a dark empty parking lot after a date or getting back to campus late after a track meet. Eventually, I bought a rebuilt starter and my dad and I replaced it ourselves. It was my first automotive repair and kickstarted my inclination now to always attempt to do repairs myself. I'm so grateful for that time.
As an aside, demonstrating grit and self-reliance (plus giving them a funny story) are far better ways of having a successful date than a cool car...at least it always worked out for me.