I think back to 1982 when I was a dead broke auto mechanic trying to make enough money to make ends meet. There was no such thing as disposable income around my house. It was all disposed of before I got it. Thirty-five-years-old and, I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to be when I grew up; but I knew it wasn’t fixing cars in the hot Florida sun.

It was March 12, 1982, and it had been raining for two days. The weather was lousy and I remember lying awake into the wee hours of the morning the night before, worried sick about how I was going to catch up a huge stack of past-due bills.