My story starts with my grandfather, David Goodlad. Because of religious bigotry, he lost everything after joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1906. His hardware store in Nuneaton, England, had been prosperous, but after his conversion, his community refused to buy from him, and his bank failed to renew his lease, so his business closed. He never financially recovered from this setback. He moved with his family to Canada and then to the United States, eventually settling in Heber, Utah, and later relocating to Salt Lake City to support them. My grandfather was a spiritual man whose experiences led him to the restored gospel of Jesus Christ at all costs.

My dad, Ivor Goodlad, was born to David and Lillian Goodlad in England. But they migrated to North America when he was only three months old, and he mostly remembered being raised in Salt Lake City. As was the norm in England, Dad was expected to leave school after seventh grade to help support his family. He did so, leaving behind his hope of someday attending college. Dad always had a strong desire for further education. He took college classes into his 70s. He honed his mechanical skills as a railroad mechanic working on steam locomotives. Later, he spent over thirty years at Stauffer Chemical, retiring as their Maintenance Manager with equipment covering many acres. When a piece of equipment failed, Dad prayed for a solution and was guided to visualize the problem and then direct his employees on how to fix it. Known as “the magic wand man,” he attributed this ability to divine guidance. After his retirement, he was replaced by a college-degreed engineer, with a second engineer added soon due to the heavy workload Dad had handled.

Dad grew up poor and wanted to spare me his hardships and the bias he experienced from his lack of formal education. He set a great example of the success brought about by hard work, but didn’t require the hard work from me as I grew up. I had no chores and received most things simply because I wanted them. There is no question that he loved me but he didn’t require of me the very things that brought about his success. I was taught the high values of our religion but for some reason it took years and mistakes to plant those values in my own heart. I just didn’t put out the effort to believe.

Dad set a strong example by the way he treated my mother, Lucille. Once, when Mom was on her knees scrubbing the kitchen floor, Dad walked through the room and said, “My queen will not do this kind of work,” and finished the job himself. I learned from Dad that our wife is someone special to protect, and that I should always try to lighten her load.

Dad was always ready to help those in need. When an employee showed up for work intoxicated several times at Stauffer, Dad was told to fire him, but chose not to. Rather, he encouraged him to attend AA meetings and even took him there to get started. The man stayed with Stauffer until after Dad’s retirement and often shared his rescue story at our home. Dad served as a bishopric counselor for nearly 20 years before becoming the bishop of a singles ward at age 73, serving for three years until Mom passed away.

Aso at 13, Dad bought me a Ford V8 engine to “play with”, which sparked my passion for cars. I soon became a skilled mechanic, able to tune vehicles for performance. I seemed to have an instinct for mechanical things. I once tuned a friend’s 1956 Chevy dual four-barrel setup in exchange for a non-running but hot-rodded 1936 Ford Coupe. I was too young to appreciate the beautiful, hot-rodded flathead Mercury engine it had. I could only see that it wasn’t a “modern” Chevy engine, and I sold the car quickly.

At 16, my dad bought me a 1955 Chevy, equipped with a very quick 283 ci Chevy engine (that could hit 9,000 RPMs), and I got a ticket for racing on my first night out. There were many more tickets ahead. At 17, he traded it for a 1967 Sunbeam, hoping to slow me down. I wasn’t allowed to drive it to school at first, but I was promised it would be mine after high school graduation. (I wasn’t planning to finish high school then.) When I graduated, it became mine.

Dad usually drove nice cars, like Cadillacs and Buicks, but he bought a pink Rambler station wagon in 1959 after a bad experience with a Buick. I thought he did it to ruin my high school experience. Sometimes, when my Chevy was down, I was stuck with the Rambler. It was PINK!! Today, anything goes when building a street rod, even old Ramblers. Maybe even pink ones.

I have never been in love with school. I like to learn by doing. I seriously considered dropping out of high school because I didn’t feel like I belonged there. My grades inconsistently swung between A’s and F’s, depending on the mood of the semester. In a math class, Mr. Glasser, a former business owner turned teacher, became a pivotal figure in my life. He saw my struggles and invited me to his beachfront home for hamburgers, sodas, and conversation any time I needed to talk. He listened, offered guidance, and finally convinced me that I was worth educating. This changed everything; I finished high school and scored highly on the SAT. While others doubted me, Mr. Glasser said, “I knew he could do it.” Thank you, Dan Glasser. I was still unclear where this education would take me but I knew that it was beyond high school.

Shortly after graduating from high school, I was hired by George Chevrolet as a lot boy. My job was to keep new and used cars clean and customer-ready, including washing hundreds of vehicles. I enjoyed being around cars and ensured that they all looked great. They once had a 454-cubic-inch Corvette in the showroom. It was rated at 460 horsepower, which left me dazzled. A customer wanted to take it for a test drive before buying it. A salesman came to me to get it ready, including a warm-up run on a freeway. That was a fun drive!