No one knows his true character until he has run out of gas

Marcelene Cox, with sharp wit and deep observation, once wrote: “No one knows his true character until he has run out of gas, purchased something on the installment plan and raised an adolescent.” In this saying, she unveils the truth that a person’s nature is revealed not in moments of ease, but in trials both small and great. Her words remind us that the measure of the soul is not found in comfort, but in frustration, patience, and perseverance.

The first test she names—running out of gas—seems simple, even mundane. Yet in that moment, stripped of convenience, a man’s temper and composure are revealed. Does he rage at fate? Does he despair and give up? Or does he calmly seek a way forward? Such ordinary trials show the hidden threads of our spirit, for it is in small inconveniences that pride and patience, selfishness or humility, come to light.

The second trial—purchasing on the installment plan—reveals another dimension of character: the ability to honor commitments over time. To live under debt requires discipline, honesty, and foresight. It tests whether one can delay gratification, whether one will keep promises made when the initial joy of the purchase has faded. Through this, Cox shows that character is not only tested in the moment, but across seasons of responsibility, when faithfulness must replace impulse.

The final and greatest test—raising an adolescent—is the crucible of patience and love. For the years of adolescence bring turbulence: questioning authority, asserting independence, and testing boundaries. In these years, a parent is pressed harder than at any other stage, forced to balance firmness with compassion, guidance with freedom. To endure this storm without breaking the bond of love is perhaps the greatest measure of human strength. As Cox declares, it is in this trial that the true depth of a person’s heart is revealed.

History reflects these truths. Consider the life of Abraham Lincoln, who faced endless inconveniences, burdens of debt, and the turbulence of leading a divided nation—like raising a rebellious family on a vast scale. His patience, endurance, and ability to persist through trials both personal and public revealed the greatness of his character. He did not crumble under pressure but grew stronger, proving that the soul is refined in hardship, never in ease.

Cox’s teaching is humorous on the surface, but profound beneath: it is not the grand gestures of life that reveal us, but the ordinary trials, the daily burdens, and the relationships that demand endurance. Character is not what we proclaim in speeches, but what we reveal when frustrated, indebted, or faced with the stormy soul of an adolescent child.

The lesson for future generations is this: do not fear the tests of inconvenience, responsibility, and family struggle. Embrace them as mirrors, showing you who you truly are. When you run out of gas, meet it with patience. When bound by debt, meet it with faithfulness. When raising an adolescent, meet it with love unyielding. These trials are not punishments, but opportunities to reveal and refine the strength of your spirit.

Thus, let Marcelene Cox’s words endure as a teaching of wisdom and warning: a person’s true measure is not found in ease but in trial. And those who endure such trials with grace will leave behind a legacy not of wealth or acclaim, but of character, shining as a light to generations yet unborn.