March 12th, 2026
Last Thursday I met Teresa for lunch at Houston's, our usual spot. She walked in with that look on her face ... one that tells me something just happened, and she can't wait to get it out.
"You're not going to believe this," she said before she even sat down.
She'd been on the expressway, headed to meet me, when she noticed a guy following her. Not casually drifting in the same direction. Following her. Off the expressway, through the back streets, turn after turn, all the way into the restaurant parking lot, where he pulled up right beside her.
She rolled her window down halfway. Just enough to talk, not enough to feel vulnerable. "How can I help you? Why were you following me?"
He immediately apologized. Polite, almost disarming. He'd noticed a dent in the back of her Porsche Cayenne and wanted to know if he could repair it for her that afternoon.
Now, here's where the story shifts from unsettling to remarkable.
Months earlier, Teresa had backed into a pole sticking out from a truck at a gas station. The pole was below window level, completely invisible until it wasn't. It left a nasty dent in the back of the Cayenne she loves. She'd gotten repair estimates. The lowest was $16,000, with the car out of service for at least three weeks.
So, when this stranger in a parking lot said, "I'll do it all, including the paint, have it done today ... $900," she didn't laugh him off. She asked for his number and told him to text her while she was inside having lunch with me. He did.
While we ate, she looked him up online. Twenty-five years in the dent repair business. Solid reputation. She texted him back. "Let's go for it."
He replied that he was already on his way to the Porsche dealership to buy paint. Ninety minutes later, he met her at the office and went to work in the underground garage.
I couldn't help myself.
I found him with a loud drill spinning, polishing off the old finish before laying down the new paint. I shook his hand and told him how impressed I was. Not just with the quality of his work, but with something bigger. His initiative. His hustle. His refusal to let opportunity just drive past him on the freeway.
His name is Nick. I'd guess he's in his early-forties. He told me he'd been doing this work for 25 years and had tried repeatedly to find help but couldn't find anyone with the work ethic and meticulousness to meet the standard he held himself to. A standard he wouldn't compromise, because his reputation depended on it.
He mentioned his two teenage sons. He was struggling to get them to see the world the way he sees it. Those of us with children can identify with that.
I gave him my card and told him he'd be my dent repair person for life. I meant it.
When he finished, the car looked flawless. Not "pretty good." Not "you can barely tell." Perfect. Like the dent had never existed. $900. Done before dark.
Think about what Nick did. He spotted an opportunity on a freeway. He didn't think about it, sleep on it, or add it to a list he'd get to later. He followed that opportunity through traffic, off an exit, down back streets, and into a parking lot. He introduced himself with respect. He quoted a fair price. He delivered extraordinary quality, on the same day, in a parking garage. No marketing department. No team. No fancy technology. Just his eyes open, his skills sharp, and a bone-deep refusal to let good work go undone.
People sometimes ask me the secret to the success I've had. My answer fits on an index card: what I lacked in smarts, I made up in effort.
What I don't know I can learn. My skills can always be sharpened. There is always, and I mean always, an answer to the problem in front of me. The only question is whether I'll put in the effort to find it. And if I'm not getting where I want to be, I need to look in the mirror.
Nick knows this. He's lived it for 25 years next to a car with a polisher in his hand. I can't think of a better example of true entrepreneurism.
