It was a UCLA retreat. I was a poor grad student. He had funded an endowed chair. $30M a pop.
I was on a hayride with him. Tractor died. Driver was stupid. This guy rummaged for tools, found few. Spent time under the tractor. Cursed a lot. The driver had left, pre-cell phone, to call home.
This guy hated high school. Vo-tech in HS. Worked as a mechanic in a garage. For a few years. When the owner retired, his mechanic was offered a contract to work off the value of the garage. Years later--living above the garage--he owned it. Tired. Opened another garage. He had trouble finding mechanics. Specialized. Oil and brakes. Trained them. Opened more store fronts. Risked a lot.
Years later, he was on a hayride where the tractor broke down, pondering funding a second endowed chair at UCLA. He was worth hundreds of millions of dollars. He'd had way over 300 store fronts in multiple states and went IPO.
It happens.
I had a dream. It utterly failed. But most dreams don't come true. The American Dream isn't an "American Promise" or "American Guarantee". It's a promise that it's more likely to happen here than in totalitarian countries. Hence immigration.
History enlightens.
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