Wallace and Son’s

The Wallace Clan at the 50th Anniversary of Wallace and Son’s

A big change is coming to my hometown of Rockingham, NC. Due to my Dad’s retirement, Wallace & Son’s Tire Center has been closed. Wallace & Son’s was my family’s business. It provided livelihood for three generations and was an honest provider of auto services to the community. The family just called Wallace & Son’s “the station.” The property has been sold to a restaurant chain, and the buildings have been torn down to prepare the way for new construction. It is a bittersweet moment, to say the least.

I grew up in those buildings. When I was a little boy, I would play all day in the front-end alignment bay I had affectionately renamed the “grease pit.” I would come home covered in dirt and grime, much to my mother’s chagrin. On those long summer days, I would find unique ways to play with the tools of the tire trade. How I did not break more of them, I do not know. Every Wednesday I would go with my grandad, “Papa,” to Wilmington, NC so we could deliver a load of recapped tires to Gene’s Tire Service. I usually slept most of the way to Wilmington, but would wake up in time to see the battleship. I would then “help” Papa as best as a first grader could. On Thursdays, I would ride with my dad and “help” him on his delivery route that went from Candor and Mt. Gilead to Pinehurst and Southern Pines.

As I grew up, I became more involved in actual work. I learned how to change tires and oil. I learned how to provide customer service. I learned how to prepare large orders of tires for our wholesale customers. I learned the importance of fair dealing. I learned how to face sudden shocks that change everything. I learned the power of remaining steadfast when all seems lost. In short, I learned about life and business at the station.

I never, however, thought the business was for me. I always had my eyes set on the horizon, and that was ok. The family never impressed on me the need to be the future leader of the family business. In fact, they urged me to go to college knowing there was the possibility, likelihood even, that I would not return. I did not.

Even though running the business was never on my radar, the station affected my life in countless ways. I have been gone for nearly thirty years now and I still remember its local telephone number, 800 number, address, and the names of our biggest customers. I can still smell the rubber from a tractor trailer load of new tires in the warehouse. I can still remember sweating profusely while replacing tire after tire on endless summer days. I can still remember trying to scrub the dirt and rubber out of the callouses on my hands.

It is odd now, as a middle-aged man, watching the place where I grew up with cease to be. It is like one of the anchor points of my life has been taken away. Life without Wallace & Son’s is strange.

I think one reason it is strange is that Wallace and Son’s was Papa’s creation. With the station now gone, it is like a part of him—a very good part of him—is gone too. Several weeks ago, my dad brought be a present from the station, two of the bricks that made up the building. I’m not sure where to put them just yet, but I value them very much.

I do remember, however, that my grandfather and father’s legacy is not a business or a building. No business is eternal. No building stands forever. Their legacy is in the values they taught and lived. While Wallace & Son’s is gone, what I learned in the family business remains.