Dads advice was — Never to buy a house at the bottom of a hill

Summary

The text is a heartfelt tribute to the author's father, a man of many talents and a dedicated bus driver, who imparted valuable life advice and had a passion for writing.

Abstract

The author's father was a versatile and skilled individual, adept at fixing things, playing the guitar, and even boxing. He was known for his entertaining magic tricks and jokes, lived a debt-free life, and was recognized for his wisdom and advice-giving. Despite his late start, he took up running marathons and excelled in various hobbies, including gardening and rewiring his house. His true passion, however, was writing, which he did beautifully and often, leaving eloquent notes and descriptions. Despite his talent, he underestimated his writing ability and spent much of his career as a punctual and meticulous bus driver, a job he approached with positivity and dedication. The author reflects on the missed opportunity to encourage their father to pursue his passion for writing more seriously, especially after his passing, and poses a reflective question to the reader about their own passions and reasons for not pursuing them.

Opinions

The author holds their father in high regard, admiring his diverse skills and his ability to live a principled life.
The father is portrayed as a man of integrity, who returned a lost wallet and remained calm in the face of adversity, such as being spat on by a drunk passenger.
The author believes their father's greatest talent was his writing, which was both a gift and a passion that he did not fully recognize or pursue.
The author regrets not having encouraged their father to document his practical wisdom through writing.
The text suggests that the father's advice, such as not buying a house at the bottom of a hill, was often insightful and proven correct, as evidenced by a local news story about a flood.
The author uses their father's life and choices as a catalyst to prompt readers to consider their own passions and the reasons they might not be actively pursuing them.

Dads advice was — Never to buy a house at the bottom of a hill

Dad was one of those unusual people who could turn his hand to anything and do it well. He could fix the toaster and play the guitar; he even knew his way around a boxing ring. With his magical tricks and witty jokes, he could entertain a room full of people with ease.

A meticulous maker of intricate things; he lived his life free of debt and spent money wisely. He never drank and he never swore. Over the years he also developed an uncanny knack for being right and people often came to ask his advice.

At the age of fifty, he suddenly started running in marathons and, just for good measure, he always crossed the finish line by doing a forward roll (in spite of his bad back). He once grew a prize vegetable garden from seed, he then rewired the whole house to an impeccably high standard.

And yes, he could fix the TV set and the car, but Dad’s greatest gift was his writing. His beautiful handwritten notes always carried a beautiful majestic flow. Writing seemed to light a fire deep inside him. In his spare time, he would leave notes for anybody who would read them.

When eBay first came along he would spend an hour writing the most eloquent description just to sell an old coat. Before leaving for work he often wrote Mom a page-long letter. It’s fair to say Dad’s writing was not only his gift, but it was also his passion. The problem was he didn’t know it, and so he settled for less.

For most of his working life, he fed me and my two sisters by driving a big red, double-decker bus (which due to his precise nature, always ran on time).

Dad never skipped a day of work, not even when he was ill. With an unblemished driving record that stretched more than three decades, his only goal was to deliver people safely to their destination. His bus driver uniform was always neatly pressed in a certain way, and his clean, polished shoes stood out from a meter away!

Dad was honest and friendly with everyone he met. Late one night a man boarded and left his wallet behind. The next morning the wallet found its way back to its rightful owner. Another night a drunk got on the bus and spat in dads face — he wasn’t quite as easy to trace.

If you asked my dad why he drove a big red bus he would always joke, “It’s an easy job, my load walks on and walks off.” He somehow found a positive in every situation. Dad was gifted in so many ways and I’ll never know why such a meticulous mind spent ten hours a day sitting in traffic while driving a big red bus.

It pains me to say it now, but dad wrote me so many eloquent handwritten letters to me that I’d sometimes catch myself skimming through them. If only I’d known back then I would have said, “Hey Dad, why don’t you write down all those practical tips that you know?”

He often told us things like, “Never buy a house at the bottom of the hill.” Earlier this week the local news ran a story about a street that had been flooded out, except of course for the one house that stood at the top of the hill.

Sadly, dad’s not here anymore so my question to you is this. What’s your passion in this life and why aren’t you doing it?