“GO! GO! GO!!!” yelled Kyle and Brad as they bolted straight out of the liquor store and jumped into my already-rolling, blood-red Boss Mustang. Engine screaming, tires squealing, we band of drunken teenage brothers shot into the night as Kyle tossed the fake gun out the window.

But just as we tore onto the nearby freeway on-ramp, adrenaline pumping, hitting 200/km, the 400 horsepower engine started cutting out a little — then a lot, then completely died — WHAT??? Had I actually forgotten to get gas??? Yup.

As the nose dropped, the declining whirr of tire noise was soon drowned out by the pounding rush of blood to my head, knowing we’d be surrounded by cruisers in no time.

As the rare-but-rough old Boss crunched onto the gravel shoulder, an idea flashed into my terrified mind – I could sprint five minutes to where my buddy Mark might be working at a 24-hr gas station, and Brad and Kyle could run along a hidden rail-line back to the house party. So we split up. Hyperventilating, I tore along the freeway feeling like my heart would burst….

But unbelievably, Mark was working! Now with a full, heavy can of gas, I stumbled as fast as I could back to the car, and could hardly believe my eyes — it was still sitting on the dark highway shoulder, not a cop in sight.

Two a.m., back at the near-empty house-party, it hit me what an idiot I’d been. How could I have gone along with this? I could have ruined my entire future. Was my partying becoming a tad excessive? The next few days I panicked every time my parent’s phone or doorbell rang. . .

Above: A Boss as mine looked before I rendezvoused it with the same physical coordinates as curbs, cars and trees. I also added a creative flourish of bullets holes across one side, making it so de rigueur among the bad-boy community; well, it seemed like a good idea one drunken afternoon. Alas, I was soon getting pulled over even more than usual. Really didn’t see that coming!

And yet, who would have dreamt, other than possibly my parents, that someday I’d graduate from a leading business school. How could that happen?

Sadly, before that, the insanity would only increase. Four of my closest friends, most from nice homes in decent suburbs, would die violent or tragic deaths. More on that coming, but I could have been one of them. I now see my self-destruction as the unadvertised price of trying to live a beer commercial. It won’t happen, or satisfy, for pretty much anyone for long. Another related truth is, you will become like your friends, so choose them very, very wisely. Like those with good goals, good hearts, and strong work ethics, values and discipline; who know how to enjoy life without chemical crutches of any kind. Not easy to find, so look in the kind of places you’d find them. Not in the party life. Just my 2 cents, but I found out the hard way (like most people).

My opinion again, but that can also apply to your entertainment, with its whole ‘let’s get crazy’ mantra, i.e., that’s the only way to truly ‘live.’ It’s a lie. And if you unwittingly buy into that, consider yourself being played by people who make their careers by ridiculing anything decent and moral while destroying your long-term happiness. Better to seek happiness and peace on the inside, I found.

How did it all go so wrong?

Looking back, I know what was driving me — a sweet young boy with a passion for science — into the arms of almost certain death: insecurity.

So when liquor first appeared on my radar at age 13, I was all in. It lessened my shyness, and made me look cool! (Isn’t that what matters?) Or so I thought. But I just had to become one of the bad boys! Seemingly so confident and respected. Sometimes drinking even before school, I plummeted from a top-three student to most-likely-to-appear-on-COPS, even failing all my Grade 12 classes but one – including my beloved sciences. My wonderful parents were deeply heartbroken.

Quick philosophical sidebar

Also, somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, I had developed an atheist orientation, from the ’null’ position. I have since studied atheism in depth, and despite all its appeals to ‘science’ — itself in great question after the famed Replication crisis of recent times — I see atheism is based on at least one major assumption: that if God exists, he must be discoverable by science. But even there, there are plenty of facts for those truly seeking, many synopsized in “Case for the Creator.” In fact many of the world’s greatest scientists and thinkers, past and present, are or were Christians. Quick example, the leader of 10,000 other scientists in sequencing the human genome, and head of the US National Institutes of Health, Dr Francis Collins. He was raised an atheist, but eventually looked at the facts for himself, per his book, The Language of God: A Scientist Presents Evidence for Belief. For towering intellects of times past, Einstein’s three greatest scientific heroes, posted in his office, were all Christians – Maxwell, Faraday and Newton (albeit Newton quite atypical). Science is merely the observation of Gods’ creation — albeit miraculous in its complexity, resulting in the conversion of the Godfather of modern atheism, Anthony Flew — not proof He doesn’t exist. On the contrary, the universe’s utter impossibility from the nano to the macro, is proof he does exist, according to Flew in his last book, There is a God: How the World’s Most Notorious Atheist Changed His Mind.

By age 17 all my dreams of being a scientist or astronaut were long gone. Instead, I was ‘experimenting’ with IV drugs, even sharing a needle with a room of about eight people (shudder). And, as being a frequent fall-down-drunk driver, I’d had many accidents and three very-near major collisions.

Speaking of the cars

By age 16, my dad and I had restored to perfection a ’67 Mustang and a ’62 Ford Country Sedan station wagon. My driving record soon included everything from drunk driving, when I crashed the ’67, below, to leaving the scene of an accident, to drag racing — my second-favourite pastime after drinking. I don’t even remember driving home many nights, including some on my 750 Honda.

BTW, several of my friends also had great classic muscle cars: a 442 Cutlass, a Dodge 440 Charger R/T, a 340 ‘Cuda, an AMC Javelin, and two ’68 Camaros. 

Photo: 16-year-old me, lil’ bro, and the freshly painted, soon-to-be-wrecked, ’67 289 4-speed/4-barrel.

Still living at home at 17, I hated sobriety, and did any kind of intoxicant I could get my mitts on.

And that’s a big part of the problem — you’ll always want ‘a little more,’ till very slowly, you don’t care about anything else. Ambition? Gone. Of course I told myself, “I can quit any time.” The only problem is, you’ll never want to quit badly enough. Yet I still assumed that my life and career would turn out great! It’s amazing how the mind can rationalize anything.

Wups, I did it again

Again, a late-night ‘perfect getaway’ had gone mysteriously wrong — although this time I was an unwilling car passenger in a spontaneous robbery – someone got the plate number. How could that happen!? I was charged along with the others just for being present. Mercifully, charges were dropped after two friends confessed to going in the store. But realizing I had again nearly lost all hope of a good life and career hit home.

My parents picked me up from the police station – the ride home was not fun. “Where did we go wrong?! Where did we go wrong?!” my devout mother wailed. Her face was so distraught… it really went right through me. I tried to tell her it wasn’t her fault. Dad was quiet. Probably traumatized. Which must take a lot for a war veteran. I loved my parents deeply, and did a great job of hiding the worst from them. (Parents be warned, kids are masters at that!) I needed a miracle. Fortunately, one seemed to be starting – though still a few years off.

As for my friends, the wages of our ways were catching up.(Names changed to protect their memories.) Kyle, always so chill, was first to die at 17 when he wrecked a stolen car – some think suicide. ‘Babyface’ Brad, the wildest one and life of every party, would later end his life when surrounded by police after a failed armed robbery (in which he’d shot a pursuing policeman, sad to say). Tyler, always ‘Mr. Cool’, would overdose and die at U of T. And Joel, a regular nice kid, would be beaten to death with pipes by a bike gang over a small drug debt.

Another friend, after starting U of T, developed severe schizophrenia, which has now been linked to marijuana use. (One acquaintance even went on to kidnap and murder two teenage girls, another died from a drunken fall while crawling under a bridge a blizzard.) This country loses thousands of precious young people this way each and every year, as well as through suicides, though we don’s seem to hear about it in big media relative to how large, catastrophic and tragic it really is.

All young. All full of promise. All fun-seeking victims of partying and drugs. All of whom thought they could stop any time they wanted, and that disaster would never happen to them. The thing is, you’ll never want to stop badly enough; and you won’t even know it until you actually try — if you do try.

Working on the bullet-ridden Boss:

The turnaround begins…

By 18, deep inside, I was beginning to feel utterly empty. Life felt meaningless. But logically, isn’t ‘fun’ what life’s all about? Shouldn’t I be overjoyed? Yet it wasn’t even fun any more. It seemed there always seemed to be fights, bad misunderstandings, back-stabbing, gossip, romantic cheating, broken friendships, destroyed property, family fights, etc. To the young me, I would now say: the long-term rewards of living clean ‘feel’ far better, and in a deeper, richer way. Stop thinking about everything from the short-term! And sadly, get away from your friends!

Yet it seems impossible to do while addicted to the lifestyle and substances — plus everything else looked so…boring!

Speaking of boring (at the time anyway), Mum had raised us in a typical traditional church – looking back, I had been hearing, but not listening whatsoever.  Okay, not even hearing! I wasn’t motivated to. My recently discovered Communion notebook is replete with random sketches of hot rods and fighter planes. I’ve since realized this about quitting addictions (and about getting close to God) — you can only feel motivated by true desperation– at least if you only learn the hard way, like I seem to. Looking back, I was getting to that point. I had even taken Transcendental Meditation lessons, but found that unfulfilling too. Jesus was wayyyy down at the very bottom of my options list. (Plus he’s so uncool!) But even He tells us, that’s something we have to be prepared for to follow him – be willing to give up everything, especially what people will think of you. But compared to the early martyrs, even that is nothing.

A little more backstory 

Years before this, someone at mum’s church had anonymously donated a “Good News” Modern English New Testament to all members. (Thank you, whoever you were!) It laid around the house for years, but about age 18 I secretly began reading a chapter a day. Somehow, I felt better, more fulfilled Like this might actually be real. Like it made ‘God’ happy. It calmed me inside, the tormented feeling disappeared briefly. But somehow I still couldn’t stop partying, even though I was really trying.

After many months, some verses were actually starting to make sense, and even connect with one another. I felt a little hope… I felt I could see a hint of light in the darkness. The urge and vision to get sober started to become stronger – I began to feel drugs and drink were crutches. Slavery, not freedom. Not ‘the real me’, but a ‘FAKE’ me. I wanted to be the real me. Yet with friends around, I’d always agree to ‘one beer’… which usually became about 12. The next day I’d awake wracked with guilt and say, “Never again.” But next weekend it was deja booze all over again.

This extreme torment went on from about age 18 to 21. So another hard-fought lesson for me: don’t have the first drink, puff, bite or whatever, unless you’re prepared to never stop – you’ll ultimately avoid a lot of misery. Stop thinking short term!

Meanwhile, my youngest brother started listening to a gospel radio. And God persevered, as He does for every lost sheep. This time it was through an elderly couple, who were simply out knocking on doors and sharing the gospel. Alone, my youngest brother answered and was soon attending their lively little church. He brought some Bible tracts home, and that’s how I finally understood that we are saved simply by believing Christ died for our sins, was buried and resurrected — and I only needed to repent, and try not to sin. (And ideally, then love everyone– especially the unpopular, the outcasts, and the poor.)

With the deep friendships I had, that could be a problem. A problem not helped by my shy streak, which still had me fearing what others thought.

I remember thinking that ‘church’ would mean living my whole life with very old people – but I was now prepared to do even that to follow Christ. To be a true follower of Jesus, even prison, or death, would be okay I thought. Imagine my joy when I later discovered a youth group! It’s a good thing I was made to feel very welcome first time, or I would’ve never gone back. Youth groups, please ensure everyone always feels welcome, especially shy or quiet people!!! Not just cool or rich kids!

Meanwhile…

I’d somehow barely passed a local college course my dad had forced me take and miraculously landed a high-paying technical job at a petrochemical plant. But then God moved in for the kill – of my self-destructive desires and torment. While out “crop touring” with friends (drinking and driving on country backroads), I felt a strange kind of stomach ache. After a few days and some extreme pain, my appendix burst while in ER, and I could have easily died. On the bright side… at least three weeks in hospital kept me away from parties! ‘Coincidentally’, I’d arranged the next month off from my job for a bargain Hawaiian holiday – again no friends with me, and I actually stayed clean. And upon returning home, I was scheduled to work weekends for a month, so no parties again! I consider this a God thing.

After three months away from the party scene, with time to read the Bible, spiritually I felt strong enough to make a change.

I finally realized I had to make a total break with my friends as the only way to quit partying and have a real walk with Jesus – but I was terrified of what they’d think. I decided I’d write a letter explaining my new-found beliefs and peace-of-mind, and surely never hear from them again. But before I could copy it, a close friend dropped by my parents’ house looking for me, let himself in, and found it on the coffee table… I can still hear him: “Whoa, I never knew you were like this!!!”

So the news was out.

But surprisingly, nearly all my friends still accepted me and would still talk to me…a few even had deep one-on-one chats. As mentioned, some went on to die, yet with them and others I was also able to visit in prison and share the gospel of God’s love – and who knows how God may have spoken to them in their final moments.

God even restored my family. Believe it or not, my brothers and I were baptized together.

Actually one member didn’t quite make it… my beaten-but-beloved Boss Mustang. I sold it as a basket-case, bullet holes ‘n all, after deciding that restoring it wasn’t the best use of God’s time. 

And in case you’re wondering, I soon decided the right thing to do with all my ill-gotten gains was to tally it up and donate the money to charity. (Looking back, I think that was because the stores had disappeared.)

Also around that time, I roadied for a Christian band, became the sound tech, then manager, and finally started a little record company with friends in LA., which we later sold to a division of Disney. I then volunteered as a missionary business lecturer in China, did Asian project management for Exxon, started a short-lived Hong Kong import company, volunteered in a expat church, after which God opened a miraculous door into Advertising, where I wrote for Dove, Disney, The Economist and more. After returning from a career in Asia, I now hope to live for Christ more than ever.

Like many people, I’ve had some big failures and some victories in my walk with Christ — and life itself has had its extreme valleys and peaks. One of the latter being my wonderful wife. And, although I’m tempted to weep over what-might-have-been if I’d stayed on the right path, I’m gradually learning to trust God, no matter what. And as Jesus said so many times, don’t worry – especially in the storms of life. They bring you deeper into His Word, and help build His character in you. He will work out his precise plan for your life, even weaving in your ‘mistakes.’

And at least you’ll finally be cool in the only place it matters – in God’s eyes.

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