"There are places I remember all my life, Though some have changed, Some forever, not for better, Some have gone and some remain." -John Lennon, "In My Life" Ever since my childhood, one of the things that has struck me is the ability to remember things that don't exist any more. Many of the buildings in the neighborhood where I grew up were destroyed in the Sylmar quake of 1971, including my elementary school. In my mind I still occasionally take a mental stroll thru the halls of that old building. Yesterday I added a new one to the list. Yesterday was bound to be a different kind of day anyways. I had already agreed to take the day off of work and meet with my mother and visit the cemetary on the anniversary of my father's passing. I had the opportunity to share with her how the past and the future have blended together as I share some of the lessons I learned from my father in helping others. Then I went off to deal with the past and the future yet again. One of the things my father taught me was the difference between a hand up and a hand out. If someone really wants to change, a kind word and a helping hand is a greater charity than money. I spent several unpaid hours drilling, bolting, cutting and installing parts on two of Simon's still unfinisheds projects as others continued the messy process of cleaning out the shop. After a while, Art Banks showed up to do the same. Art's parents must have taught him the same lesson. As I worked, I asked myself what the lessons were to be learned here. First and foremost was the one I had been telling my best friend for the last 15 years: it takes a lot more than talent to run a business. In my friend's case, he was and is a very capable bicycle mechanic who makes a decent living as a punch press operator. He has often dreamed of opening a bicycle shop, but I have always talked him out of it. Eventually he was lucky enough to befriend the owners of a small bike shop and get 'behind the scenes.' He got to wrench on bikes, talk to customers, look thru catalogs, order inventory and basically live the dream. He also got to watch the business slowly fail, as accounts went past due, vendors went C.O.D, customer's parts mysteriously disappeared and the owners tapped into outside sources to try and keep the business afloat. My father had watched the same thing happen to several of his business associates. The story is common. Sad, but common. There have been times where I have said to myself, 'there but for the grace of God go I'. The second thing I learned is that yesterday was just like every other day in the life of Simon Morris: too little, too late. Even with a midnight deadline, the building was nowhere close to being vacant, and that Simon once again was being deludedly optimistic about his ability to accomplish all of his goals. Every customer and friend that has dealt with Simon for the last few years has witnessed, experienced and eventually walked away from this maddening scenario . As his customers came to pick up their things and asked me what I thought, all I could really say was, "why should this day be any different to the rest?" And that's as much as I'm gonna say about that. The third thing I learned was really just being reminded again that there really is such a thing as a landcruiser community. Of the few guys that came to help Simon in his final hours, three of us, John Alveron, Art Banks and myself are all TLCA members and part of a local club, Trail Crew-L.A.TLCA. That made me proud. Joining a club isn't always evidence of the spirit of common enterprise, but in this case I would like to think that it was. The last thing I learned was something that there was no way to know until yesterday. In his sadly deluded but hopelessly optimistic mind, Simon still still believes that he can make everything all right again. Even though EVERYONE knows this isn't possible, I still find it commendable. In my own experience, I have watched my uncle run away from one failed venture after another, including five businesses and seven marraiges. Often, his brother, my father was the one left to clean up the mess. In contrast, when Art and I left at 11pm last night, the last thing I saw was Simon getting back to work on a customer's rig. Again, too little, too late. But not running away. Faultline is gone, but Simon is not. Quitters never win, and winners never quit. Now I am sure: Simon is not a quitter. Note: the purpose of this thread is not to provide a platform for flaming Simon. The board has already suffered enough from that. If flaming starts, I will just keep deleting the thread and reposting it until it stops. What I would like here is for others to take a few minutes to share stories about other things in their lives they have watched come and go and the lessons they have learned from it. This is the food for thought I would like Simon to look at as he thinks about the future. Group support and helpful opinions really define what this board can be at its best. If you don't have anything positive to say, STFU!