I used to work for an international tour company, and we got around by means of a 15 passenger van hitched to a 15 foot trailer with 30 bikes mounted on top. It was a big rig. On this particular week, we were ferrying from one island to another off the coast of Washington in the gorgeous cluster of the San Juan's. Ferries are very common means of transportation for pedestrians as well as vehicles. Vehicles are packed in tightly, just inches on either side and front to back. There are two types of ferries in the San Juan's. One type allows vehicles to "drive on, drive off". The other type requires vehicles to "BACK on (down a 50 ft chute and into a parking spot the size of a postage stamp), drive off."
Guess which one was scheduled to land at our ferry stop that day?
I was co-leading that trip with 2 others. Sarah was a "sophomore" in the field, while Brian and I were just freshman. Brian and I looked at Sarah, who was by most definitions, more qualified than we were to back this crazy beast down the slot without scraping it up or making a fool out of themselves. She...flat out refused. Refused!
Brian and I, just babes to the trailer-backing world were in shock. But...but...what were we going to do? Who was going to do this?
Brian and I decided to draw straws. We are grown adults sitting in an $80,000 rig literally drawing straws as to who was going to walk this dreadful plank.
Guess who drew the short straw?
Brian! And then...he immediately refused!!
So, in that moment I just decided
someone
had to put on their big kid underwear and do this thing. I committed to the deed. It was one of the scariest things I have ever committed to (and I have run alone in grizzly bear country, lived in Fiji by myself, remodeled/opened The Shift studio without a dollar saved ahead of time, and dozens of other crazy things). But I felt something rise up inside of me that must be the same death-defying ego that gunslingers channel before a shoot out. I was going to do this...
Then, 15 minutes before the ferry's arrival, we found out that a "drive in, drive out" boat was coming instead. I have to tell you, I was a bit disappointed.
All that charge served me well though, because that evening I had to back the rig into a tight drive for our campsite. Down a chute and around a corner. This time no one was watching, but I was armed with guts. That night I truly learned how to back a trailer and I took every opportunity from that day on.
A couple years later when I lived in Florida I saw a man struggling to back his boat down the ramp into the water. I walked up and actually volunteered to help him. He let me. Fear had completely rebuilt my inner trust. I had discovered again that I was the one to lean into and the reward for that was life-lasting!
What fear could liberate you?
