What the Restoration of a ’56 Chevy Taught Me About FriendshipMy dream was to restore an old Chevy. What technical skill I lacked, Ivan had as a mechanic and bodyman. We hunted for vintage cars and found our ‘56 Chevy 4-door on a farm east of Edmonton. We rented a garage with heaters so we could work through the Edmonton winter. It felt like it was going to be an interesting and profitable 50/50 partnership. Under the careful instruction of Ivan, in the early days we made good progress in disassembling, grinding, and cutting out rust. But as the months went on, the pace slowed. Ivan seemed to have lost interest, or at least that’s how I interpreted it. I was disappointed in him. The rent on the garage kept coming due, and I watched the Chevy just sit there, month after month, untouched. I felt frustrated, ready to end it all. I listed the car for sale as parts, and drove his tools over to his house, but he wasn’t home. Louise, his wife, asked me to wait, not close the project down. She asked me to give him time. Sadly, I never saw Ivan again. Ivan was a wise teacher; I just didn’t know I was the student. Ivan approached our friendship with an openness that I hadn’t learned. But for me, it was still the project that really mattered. I remember that when I spoke about buying, selling, and making money, he would gently remind me of a quieter economy that his culture used: bartering and reciprocity. He saw it as less transactional and more relational. But I had bought this old car to fix up, and make a profit. As I see now, Ivan was right. What if I had let the car sit through the winter, or even for a year? What if I had spent time with him outside of the garage to slowly build our friendship? It’s that friendship that I remember, or sadly, the way I botched it. I really wish I could call up Ivan for a coffee, and ask him more about his Cree Nation culture. While I stressed over a delayed project, and was more worried about a stupid car in a garage, Ivan saw a friendship that was stalling. Looking back, I realize the real restoration project wasn’t the ’56 Chevy. It was me. And if I learned anything from Ivan, it’s that relationships are the investments that appreciate over time.
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