So, I read an editor’s column last night in a magazine I once interviewed for a position with. This gentleman is the publisher of a popular motorsports outlet that caters to the weekend racer and DIY’ers. Although he speaks my language in many ways, he’s also a bit more hands-on than I’ve ever been in the garage. Credit that, along with a few other lifestyle decisions, that led me to not taking the position I was offered over a year ago.

The column focused on a number of topics related to the success of the publication, as well as his lack of success in recruiting the right talent to fill positions in editorial. I wondered as I read it if he was talking about me, when he referenced how some candidates were “prima donnas” and that certain interviewees had the courage (or audacity) to ask if they could telecommute. You know, I get it – he’s in a much warmer location than I am, surrounded by desirable machinery and in an affordable part of the country where wages aren’t much of a concern. Maybe he wasn’t even talking about me, but it gave me pause as I digested those words.

The bottom line is, I made an important decision when I turned the position down, which was that I was confident I could someday find the opportunity to write professionally about the hobby of cars in a way that fit my lifestyle, which takes many forms – from where and when I’m ready to move to a new city and if I’m confident the position will be more than just a test of my ability to translate the weekend’s project car assignment into riveting copy. Although I felt some pangs of regret for passing on what could have been the only opportunity to write for a successful motorsports magazine, I also experienced a bit of relief I didn’t cash all my chips in on the first opportunity that came my way.

Sometimes that works out. My E30 was one of those situations, but it made sense for the crossroads I had reached. Disappointing relationship, horrible (but good paying) job, and an overall sense of disillusionment with where life was. The E30 reflected this rock-bottom perspective but it represented a tangible mechanism for improvement, for looking at something pitiful and saying, “This will improve. This will be exactly what I want it to be someday.” Could I have waited for a better car to come along? I could have, but that’s not what I needed at that point in time. I needed the quick fix. I needed to see potential in something.

Like I’ve said before, I draw parallels from my vehicles that have served me well in many ways. If I was a prima donna, I would have scoffed at the E30 the second I saw the first photos of its ratty interior, oil-stained engine block and mismatched side mirrors. But instead, I saw the potential, which is far harder to find in most situations, whether it’s a job, a relationship, or a new project car. Potential is what keeps us coming back to the well, and wanting to take the steps necessary to ensure there is always more to uncover.

As I closed the magazine last night, I did so with little internal conflict. Do I still want to write for a car magazine some day? Absolutely. Do I feel there is no better occupation for me? With little doubt and much conviction. Will there be other opportunities? I sure hope so.

If I use the E30 as my yard stick, I’ll only grow doubtful at the potential of this career path the day that car is fully restored, from stem to stern. And even then, if the editorship of a lifetime still hasn’t revealed itself, I’ll at least have one heck of an E30.