There are stories about people doing something remarkable when everyone told them they were destined for failure or worse. I have a collection of such stories in my mind. Some are business stories, as for example about my Grand Father who arrived in New York Harbor from a Jewish ghetto in Poland, with almost nothing in his pocket but determination. He was a tailor and couldn’t be hired in the Lower East Side of Manhattan’s Garment District because all of the big factories there had signs on the entry door windows that said, “Help Wanted, Jews and Irish Need Not Apply.” He didn’t give up. He did what was left of his options and let everyone in his miserable impoverished tenement building know that he was a tailor and available to mend or alter clothing, and this became his little way of earning a living. It was enough of a living so he could send money to his wife and children and they all boarded a ship and arrived in the US around 1903 and one of them was a boy named George.
After a few failures and mishaps George went to Washington, DC and learned some of the important skills of the Dry Cleaning business from his uncle. This led to him starting a dry cleaning business on Long Island beginning with almost no money and only a lot of hard work and prayers. That business became successful and he finally sold it and retired comfortably until his death at age 77; but not before he saw me graduate from Palmer College of Chiropractic in Davenport, Iowa.
The people around the college were mostly sons of farmers and sons of Chiropractors, and they were convinced if you didn’t have about $50,000 to open a clinic you were just wasting your time. I knew they were wrong. I also knew I could learn more and do better, and I did. I eventually after a few difficult days opened a little clinic in a little community in Washington State. I combined Classic massage with Chiropractic, got amazingly good results and had a modicum of success. I look back now and think I should have done that near New York City, but everything along y our life path has a purpose even if only God knows what that purpose might be.
Now, at age 75 I am in The Philippines, watching world news and comparing it to Biblical prophecy and I’m convinced I’m here for God’s good reasons, starting a new clinic, and planning to teach what I have learned and new healing techniques I have developed. I also am involved in my own effort to develop a magazine that might keep me busy writing advertising and helping small business operators. I know a good bit about that business. It never stops “evolving.”
I can tell you stories about Yashiro Honda, the man who started by putting a small gas powered motor onto bicycles, then developed motorcycles and race cars, and finally, at the end of World War II, did the impossible and build Honda motor car company with factories in Japan and the USA. He had a life of mostly hard work and continuous effort. I think his greatest happiness was seeing his motor vehicle business grow. If it’s a vehicle and pushed or pulled by a motor, probably Honda has made it, still does, or is thinking about it.
There are wonderful stories of makers of jewelry, hand bags, and the best lines of clothing in Europe. These businesses were nearly wiped out at the end of World War II but persisted and grew.
There’s a man I rather like. He joined the British Army around age 18 or 20, went into battles and came out still alive. After 10 years he received his honorable discharge with the rank of sergeant. He also had some ups and downs, and after some time decided he would do his own study about finance. These days Neil McCoy Ward is busy producing videos that display on YouTube. He discusses news, mostly business and societal news and financial news. He also started from mostly depression and doing nothing with his life, and grew into a successful investor, writer, teacher, interviewer all related to finance and banking.
He gets a lot of comments and a small group tell him he has the wrong side of an argument, and sometimes they take too much liberty with their unfriendly labels. But you cannot deny that he is doing something right. He is a well-to-do gentleman who has made many business, political and financial predictions that eventually came true.
I have a British friend in Hong Kong who was in the banking business all of his career and I have told him he is possibly the world’s greatest skeptic; possible by his natural inclinations and possibly by training. It disturbs him that someone points to what is in the news papers, follows articles, follows the money trail, and comes to a logical conclusion about what will become of various financial and political decisions, or crimes. I seem to run into people like this; about 2 in every 100. They have their skeptical neuroses and really don’t want to be cured or changed. It is wise that yo don’t take heed of them much. Follow your own path, receive advice, think it over, and carry on.
As an advertising writer and salesman and later a back pain doctor, I have met a great many people. Many think they know all there is and everyone else is dead wrong about everything. That’s simply the same sort of neurosis turned over.
There are those odd patients who can barely read and write who tell doctors in the hospitals or in Chiropractic clinics how to diagnose and treat their problems, even though they’ve never treated a patient in their lives, and never had any formal schooling in the work.
There are those who want to build something but refuse to self-discipline to read, follow plans and produce something useful and good looking. Instead, they waste effort and money producing an ugly, dysfunctional monstrosity.
I build simple things from lumber occasionally. I have built several tables which according to height, width, length and foam density may be called massage table or clinic table. I’m building one now, planning another that would cost $1000 to buy and another $500 to ship. I’ll produce it for under $500 probably, and it will be over built.
My furniture architect friend told me I build strong enough to hold up a truck. What a complement. The cost to over build is negligible. I may as well use heavier lumber, carpenter’s glue and lag screws and have a nice-looking beast that will last for the rest of my years, if given reasonable care. I see myself building several more of these for satellite clinics I plan to develop. The one I’m building and the next will have some innovative features.
What I’m teaching about; caring for back pain patients will perhaps give some people a moment to say, “I’m glad he lived and taught this. I think he made modern society a little bit better.” All of this activity keeps me out of trouble.
I have an article below that may interested you about artificial intelligence changing the financial world. Some will say for the worse. Others will say for the better. A few skeptics will say it’s all wrong. That’s the way progress often goes, with some heated debate along the path. You are advised to do your own study and thinking. Consider carefully your own innovations, then ignore the nay sayers and stride confidently into your future. You’ll probably do something that will please you, give you reason to feel you did something good for the future society, and for yourself now, and keep you out of trouble.
Around The World On A Motorcycle
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In 1982, nearly everyone around her was convinced she was making a terrible mistake.
Elspeth Beard was 23 years old, reeling from a painful breakup and questioning whether she even wanted to finish her architecture degree. What she did know was that staying put felt unbearable. So instead of choosing something safe or sensible, she chose something no one expected.
She decided to ride a motorcycle around the world. Alone.
This was not a publicity stunt. There were no sponsors, no film crew, no magazine deal waiting at the end. Motorcycle publications declined to cover her plan. Friends predicted she would last weeks, maybe months, before giving up. Her mother warned her she was risking her life and threatened to cut ties if she went.
Elspeth went anyway.
She had saved about £2,600 working in a pub. Her motorcycle was a second-hand 1974 BMW R60/6 with tens of thousands of miles already on it. She carried paper maps, basic tools, a camera, and little else. There was no GPS, no mobile phone, no internet, and no realistic safety net.
She shipped the bike to New York and began riding west.
Over the next two and a half years, Elspeth crossed North America, Mexico, Central America, and South America, then continued through Asia and Australia. She rode through regions affected by political unrest and active conflict, relying on intuition and local kindness more than planning. She navigated deserts, jungles, mountain passes, and endless stretches of isolation where a breakdown could have meant real danger.
In Australia, she crashed badly in the outback and spent weeks recovering in a hospital. In Singapore, thieves stole nearly everything she owned, including her passport and money. When her funds ran out in Sydney, she did something practical rather than dramatic: she got a job.
For seven months, she worked at an architecture firm and lived in a garage alongside her motorcycle, saving every possible pound so she could keep going.
Her health suffered too. At one point, she contracted hepatitis and became seriously ill. Even so, she continued riding, including a grueling stretch across Iran while running a high fever. The journey was not romantic or easy. It was exhausting, lonely, and often frightening.
She never turned back.
In November 1984, Elspeth rode back into London after covering roughly 35,000 miles across more than 20 countries. She had quietly become the first Englishwoman known to have circumnavigated the globe by motorcycle.
Almost no one noticed.
There were no reporters waiting, no celebratory headlines, no immediate recognition. Even her family struggled to understand what she had accomplished. Elspeth packed away her photographs, journals, and memories into a cardboard box and didn’t open it again for decades.
Life moved on. She completed her architecture degree, built a successful career, and eventually became known for an extraordinary personal project: converting a 130-foot Victorian water tower into her award-winning home and studio. Only years later did her motorcycle journey resurface, as people began seeking out overlooked stories of women who had done extraordinary things without permission or applause.
Her memoir, Lone Rider, finally gave voice to what she had endured and achieved.
When asked what the journey taught her, Elspeth offered no grand philosophy. She simply said it showed her that there was no problem she couldn’t solve, and nothing she couldn’t cope with if she had to.
Sometimes the world tells you to stay small, to wait, to be careful, to let fear make your decisions.
Elspeth Beard didn’t listen.
And because she didn’t, she discovered how capable she truly was—long before anyone else believed it.
What makes Elspeth Beard’s story so powerful isn’t just the distance she traveled—it’s how little encouragement she received to do it. No sponsors. No validation. No safety net. Just a quiet refusal to let fear or other people’s expectations define her limits. Her journey reminds us that some of the most transformative things we ever do will be misunderstood at the time and celebrated only much later, if at all. Courage doesn’t always look loud or heroic in the moment. Sometimes it looks like leaving anyway, trusting yourself when no one else does, and finding out—mile by mile—how strong you really are.
