Early Life and a Sharp Mind
Steve (Stephen) Fredrick Parsons, My grandfather was a qualified tool maker with a bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering. He was probably one of the sharpest men I have known, with the most precise mind and the person responsible for teaching me how to problem solve.
When he moved from Victoria to Queensland in the early 1960s, there weren’t many tool-making opportunities. To make a living, my grandfather took whatever work he could find, eventually landing at Levers Body Works on Toombul Road, Northgate. At the same time, he was building his own house, pouring concrete for the stumps and living in a makeshift shed on the property until the home was ready.
Door Closed? No! That’s an oppurtunity
The owners of Levers Body Works came in one day unexpectedly and decided to shut down. Rather than let the opportunity disappear, he bought the business. He never changed the name because it already carried a trusted reputation.
Funnily enough, decades later I found myself in a very similar position. I moved from Queensland to Victoria with my partner to help him and his parents finish building their home in regional Victoria. We lived in a makeshift shed on the property while working to make the house livable. At the same time, I took whatever work I could find, 60 mins away in Daylesford at a property management company, since there were no IT or project management roles available locally.
And just like my grandfather, that business shut down. And just like him, I took it over.
The overlap in our stories made me realise that entrepreneurship wasn’t something foreign to me, it was already running through my family, shaping the way we approach opportunities and challenges.
A Legacy of Ingenuity, Perfection, and Expansion
My Grandfather became well-known for his ability to match faded paint perfectly. Instead of simply matching a panel back to its original colour, he would blend it to the car’s current faded shade, a skill that set him apart.
As opportunities arose, he expanded. He bought the shop next door and rented it out. Soon after, he leased space to George Jeavons, a painter, and also to Peppertwons. I remember going with him to collect rent from Hamish, who ran Havelstock, a producer of Brisbane storm drain sewer Lids. To this day, if you walk through Brisbane, you might still see drain covers with “Havelstock” on them. The name came from his business motto: he always had stock.
By the 1970s, my grandfather pivoted to specialising in windscreens. He offered a 24/7 replacement service, with my mum helping him on jobs. Around the same time, he got into demolishing houses at Cribb Island, bringing home salvage materials and eventually buying the demolition yard next to his body shop. His knack for spotting value meant the yard stayed stocked with useful materials, even if my grandmother wasn’t thrilled about the clutter that ended up at home in her back garden – of which a lot of it was still around in my childhood and early adult years.
Beyond the workshop, my grandfather invested in property. He bought land at Narangba, Burpengary, and even a house in Ivanhoe, Melbourne. I remember visiting the Narangba property with him and my Aunty when he’d go to cut the lawn, and my parents actually purchased half of the Burpengary block, which became my childhood home. He understood the long-term value of property.
Eventually, he stepped back from windscreens and retired. By then, he and my nana were living comfortably off the rental income from the properties he had collected along the way. I remember him going off to collect the rent and always tinkering in the sheds, fixing things, and embodying the quiet persistence that had carried him through a lifetime of engineering mastery and entrepreneurship.
Lessons in Engineering and Problem Solving
I remember him showing me a blunt drill bit, explaining the angles and how you could sharpen it against a grinding wheel to make it cut clean again. I remember pulling apart an old TV with him, learning how it was wired, and how every piece connected. He never missed a chance to point out the clever thinking hidden in the world around us, from the way the tin roof across the road was angled and joined, to the balance beam in their family home carrying the weight of two whole floors above.
He and my Nana taught me the art of loopholes and workarounds: I recall being told that after the 1974 Brisbane floods when, knowing building permits had been destroyed, he laid out large sheets of corrugated tin in his backyard so that when the aerial survey planes flew overhead, they would register as “existing buildings” on the map.
Living Between Abundance and Responsibility
My nana, meanwhile, had a generous spirit and her own way of showing abundance. She was forever slipping money into my bag or taking me out on shopping sprees. Monopoly was a household favourite, and she loved to be the banker, often “making up her own rules,” slipping me extra cash on the side while everyone else was still focused on the game.
Money never seemed to be an issue for my grandparents. They lived modestly, but they always had cash on hand. Looking back now, it strikes me how much my life overlaps with my grandfather’s, not just in the practical things we both did, but in the way those little lessons about money, creativity, and persistence were quietly passed down.
My mother, on the other hand, was extremely careful and responsible with money. Growing up, I absorbed both influences: the sense of abundance and generosity from my grandparents, and the discipline of financial responsibility from my mum. That balance shaped the way I see money today.
Even in adulthood, during times of feast and famine, I’ve never really stressed too much about finances. Somehow, the money I needed always seemed to appear just in time. And when challenges came up, I always found a way forward, often by leaning on the out-of-the-box thinking my grandfather had instilled in me from a very young age.
My Grandarents primary home was in Boondall, but for much of my twenties they were living down in Victoria, in the Ivanhoe property. About two years ago, I drove from Ballarat to Ivanhoe to help my grandfather pack up the house as they finally sold it and returned to Brisbane for good.
The Legacy of a Lifetime, and Beyond
In many ways, my grandfather’s story isn’t just about the businesses he ran or the properties he bought it’s about the mindset he carried. He showed me that problems are simply puzzles waiting for a solution, that opportunities don’t always come ready-made, and that steady persistence creates lasting results.
What strikes me most is how his quiet determination created security not only for himself, but for his family, a wife he still adores with a devotion I’ve rarely seen in any man (except perhaps my partner), and their six children. His persistence even created security for me and my family, extending far beyond his own household.
Looking back, I see how deeply our lives overlap. Both of us moved interstate. Both of us lived in makeshift sheds while helping to build a home. Both of us took over businesses when others gave up. The details were different, but the spirit was the same. He showed me that entrepreneurship isn’t glamorous, it’s practical, persistent, and often born from necessity. And it’s in those moments of necessity that creativity, resilience, and true opportunity are found.
Only now, reflecting as an adult, do I realise how much he shaped me. His lessons weren’t just about tools, business, or property they were about seeing the world differently. About solving problems, spotting opportunities, and finding ways forward when the path isn’t clear.
That wisdom lives on in me. It shapes how I think, create, build, and live. It is his greatest gift, and one I’ll always be grateful for. His story isn’t just part of my family history it’s the foundation for how I live and work today.
