Couple days ago I crossed 10 years alcohol-free.
- No fanfare.
- No celebration.
- No pats on the back.
I rarely talk about it anymore than I talk about being tall, ridiculously good-looking, or incredibly funny and humble ;-)
It’s just who I am now.
Yeah, I clocked it when I remembered. And I was proud.
But I didn’t think I’d write about it. Thought maybe I’d just let it live in the mirror.
The proof is in my clarity, my choices, my actions.
Then I thought keeping it to myself felt selfish.
Would be like hoarding a warehouse full of Advil while watching thousands walk around with headaches.
So I’m sharing this. Not advice. Not some 10-steps-to-sobriety script.
Just my story…for whoever’s at the crossroads I once stood at.
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My story isn’t unique.
Started young with social drinks. Turned into a companion.
Eventually, it was a co-pilot…eager to celebrate, ready to console.
I became a full-blown degenerate drinker. Closets. Public. Alone. Didn’t matter.
If I was breathing, alcohol was somewhere near the scene.
I thought I had it under control.
- But my kids knew.
- The liquor store clerks knew me by name
- My brother-in-law had a name for me: “Drunkle Bobby.” (actually pretty funny)
Turns out the country club staff used to take bets on how far down I’d get on the bottle they kept behind the bar for me.
They literally wrote their guesses on the bottle…
Some guy had inside intel… if I had a tee time, hosting, dinner reservations…
He’d pencil in a second bottle and push hard.
He usually won.
When I heard that, I was mortified. (although props to the kid with the inside baseball)
That story became one of my earliest pieces of scaffolding.
But it wasn’t the breaking point.
The breaking point came after a summer concert at that same club.
My then wife and kids were gone for the weekend. Just me, my dog, my pool, BBQ, tunes…and my trusty co-pilot.
I’d planned for a solo paradise. Ribs, whiskey, sun.
Hammered before sundown.
Then a buddy called: “Come on, let’s hit the concert at the club.”
I hadn’t been there all summer. I used to be on the board. Very active. Multiple tee-times per week (yah, that guy)
That night I walked into a packed house, already beyond loaded.
People handing me drinks. “BIG BOB!!! Where you been???”
And so, I drank more…and I kept drinking.
I woke up the next day on the couch. No memory beyond 10pm.
Started piecing it together.
I guess I Kool-Aid Man’d my way through a fence trying to leave.
Nobody said I did anything awful…but I was rattled.
That level of vulnerability wasn’t me. I’m the guy who’s measured. Controlled.
Later that morning, climbing the stairs, I thought I was having a heart attack.
I swore I was done.
Then drank again that night. And the next day.
Then I looked in the mirror and said it for real…
“That’s it.”
And it was.
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I knew I was likely too weak for willpower alone. I had to outsmart myself.
So I built scaffolding.
- Not a program.
- Not a guru.
- Not a coin.
Just reminders…consequences, moments, stories that kept me grounded.
When the cravings came, I’d run the mental list.
I learned the cravings are like rogue waves. Huge. Violent. But temporary.
So I became a crave surfer.
Rode every urge like a big one.
They always passed.
- I wore out a tumbler full of Diet Dr. Pepper, soda water, or whatever would clink ice and mimic the ritual.
- I stayed hydrated.
- I gamified it.
- I started reclaiming my life.
And then realized…
I didn’t know where to go anymore.
Everywhere I used to go had booze baked into the walls.
- Restaurants.
- Events.
- Friends.
- Golf.
- Business.
The world didn’t need to change.
I did.
So I started going to the same places again…but sober.
And every time I survived, the scaffolding got stronger.
Here I am. Ten years later.
- No co-pilot.
- No bets on the bottle.
I walk into places now, and the only action being taken is by me.
If you’re where I was…
- You don’t need a program.
- You don’t need a guru.
You just need a decision.
A little scaffolding.
And the belief that waves pass.
If you’re reading this with a lump in your throat, I hope this transmission reaches you like one of mine reached me.
You’re not broken. You’re just not done building yet.
Keep going.
And remember
“If it swells…ride it”
Stay lit
About Bob Manor
Bob Manor is the founder of South Ontario Auto Remarketing , Can-Am Dealer Services , and co-founder of Auto Auction Review . He’s also the creator of Influence.vin , a branding and communication studio built for the car business. With over 30 years in the automotive world, Bob specializes in wholesale, dealer services, and identity-driven brand strategy. He’s a regular contributor to well-known automotive publications and uses his platforms to help industry pros re-align with who they are, not just what they do
