Originally published in the Grand Rapids Business Journal, March 7, 2005.

In April of 1985, I was in my senior year of college at Michigan Tech. Michigan Tech is in Houghton, which is on the Keweenaw Peninsula, which is at the very north of Michigan's Upper Peninsula. (Mapquest link) I was young and in love, and so I planned to meet Jane (who lived in Flint) for Easter at the bridge -- the Mackinaw Bridge, which connects Michigan’s Upper and Lower Peninsulas.

Michgian's state motto? "If you seek a pleasant peninsula, look about you." Which is a nice way of saying, "If you ever want to go for an early spring drive, expect any number of lakes to dump an assload snow on you." I had forgotten about the motto and left a warm and sunny Houghton in tennis shoes and a windbreaker. By the time I got to Marquette (100 miles to the south and east), blizzard conditions had closed M-28 along Lake Superior.

Undaunted, I continued on US-41 through the center of the UP (Upper Peninsula), a road that was also closed, or so I was told by the very surprised people at the other end. I had every reason to believe that this was true because the road had been reduced to a single, semi-navigable path and the only other vehicle that I encountered on the way was a logging truck... going the other way. By the time I saw the headlights, I didn’t have time to think. I drove toward the truck and at the very last second, swung the steering wheel of my Dad’s Buick Century hard to the right toward the shoulder, swung hard left, stomped the accelerator, and the rear wheels kicked the car back on to the road just as the logging truck passed. After some crazy counter-steering, I got the car back under control. Fifteen minutes later I scooped my wildly pulsing heart off the dashboard and returned it to my chest cavity.

Seven more hours and a few additional near-death experiences, I met Jane at the Big Boy restaurant in St. Ignace where she had waited and wondered in those pre-cell phone days as to my existence. The same Jane who had scooted across the Mackinaw Bridge in her powder-blue Chevette, the last car to pass before it was closed due to high winds.

My point? Well, it's actually the very same point as this week's comic: It is only the truest and deepest of feelings that can make you do really, really stupid things. It was love (oh, all right –- and no small measure of lust) that sent me ever forward across the UP when the smart thing would have been to turn back. And it is the entrepreneurial spirit (oh, all right –- and no small measure of greed) that impels small business owners when often the smart thing for them to do is give up. Especially in Michigan. Unless you’re going into the car repair business. There’s pretty steady money in that.