_{*Quick Summary: The author has complimentary words for his father while comparing himself with him.*}

“I’m not my dad!”. A phrase I would think and utter way too many times through my life. In my memory, it began when he was working on the railroad when I was little. People would compare me to him, and call me “Little Bill” or “Bill Jr”, to which I’d think “I’m not my dad!”. I don’t know why little boys dislike that comparison to their dad so much, but I know I sure did. My dad was a fine man, so it wasn’t that, it was that I somehow wanted my own identity. That’s normal enough I suppose.

Go through the years, and I wanted to be very much like him, yet somehow different. I was still young, but I wanted things connected to his jobs. Train related items, die-cast tanker trucks, die-cast loaders, decals from race cars, always collecting something from where my dad worked as he changed jobs. Jobs he changed to better the lives of four children in a blended family. At times, he would work three full-time jobs at once, sleeping during the lunch hour at each, so he could get through the day. Literally changing jobs for 10¢ more an hour to better provide for us. And that was rock star material to me as a kid, yet, I still didn’t want the comparison. I wasn’t ever “Little Bill”. “I’m not my dad!”

In my mind, I was going to be a whole different person than my dad. Somehow building on the back of what he did, without ever riding his coattail. Being my own man and doing things my way, I just needed the opportunity.

The only job he has held while I’ve been adult has been at Hendrick Motorsports. A place I wanted to be from the moment he took that job. When I finally got there, I was met with “Little Bill” and “Bill Jr”, and by then I was cocky enough to verbalize “I’m not my dad!”. These are nicknames I would grow to despise. Not because of my dad, but rather my own selfish desire to be better, to do more, to eclipse his accomplishments. What he did was great, but what I’d do would be better! Just wait and see!

It didn’t take long to figure out I would never be like my dad in the racing world. I just didn’t belong. I truly wasn’t like my dad in that way. He was universally liked. He earned his spot. He worked harder and smarter. All things I didn’t have/do early on. Years of being a screw-up, making every mistake in the book, being arrogant and cocky, and every other bad thing you can imagine meant I wasn’t the least bit comparable to dad. Yes, eventually beginning to turn things around, I made my way with the help of others, but years of implanting in people’s minds that I clearly was not my dad did me no favors. I can’t imagine he was proud, yet he still stood by my side. Eventually I turned things around, and even earned my spot, but it took way too long. It’s not all bad, I contributed and became a well-respected person to those who didn’t know the “old” me or were willing to forgive me, and by then I welcomed it when people would inquire if I was related to “Mr. Bill”. “Indeed I am! Thanks for asking!” That’s about the time this picture was taken. The two of us with Papa Joe Hendrick’s ‘41 Ford about 10 years ago. I was starting to truly appreciate the man he is, and what it took for him to get there.

I’ve watched my dad work hard all my life. I have seen him support a family. I’ve seen him bury a father and a daughter. I never saw him bury his sister, but I’ve seen him make it through other incredible tragedy through the years – always consistent. Never changing. He’s the same guy now he was 40 years ago, and that is a good thing. You don’t come across people like that any more. Dad refined who he wanted to be, and he’s still that guy. Day in, day out. Ever consistent. Realizing he’s that way has shown me a bit of who God is – the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Consistent. Yeah, I’m not like my dad. I want to be more consistent, and I strive to emulate that more than any other trait he displays, but I’m not my dad.

My dad is an incredible human being. A great man. A solid man. A calm man. Someone I will always admire. No, I’m not my dad, and that’s a shame. I wish I was more like him. I wish the world was too.

I love you Pal! Happy Father’s Day! Thank you!