Over the ’09 holiday break, I sold SuperMotors.net (a hobby-based automotive online business I ran with two long-time friends — here are previous blog posts about it) which I had run in some form or fashion since 1998.
(Old screenshot of the site — when Circuit City was still in business to be able to run banner ads)
It started as just a hobby
From ’98-’02 it truly was a hobby, funded entirely by the money out of our pockets with no real plan in place. We knew we had something unique because people kept coming to the site, registering, loading up their vehicle information, pictures, sounds, and videos — all by word of mouth. But man, it was an expensive hobby to have, even with costs split between the three of us.
It became a business (but a part-time one)
In ’03 we officially became a Limited Liability Company, setup a business banking account, had company credit cards, designed and printed company business cards, had a company phone line, mailing address, and made a run at selling banner advertising inventory for the ad space on the site.
A trip to SEMA to visit existing and potential sponsors, trips to local car shows, and continuous involvement in the enthusiast community with our own hobby-based vehicles continued to get the word out.
Startup.com was a truly inspiring documentary that we watched countless time during these years.
On the up-and-up
From ’04-’05 we operated like a business: regular strategy meetings, constant site updates, new feature enhancements, active forums, and we had regular revenue coming in from sponsors, ad networks, and membership fees — it was exhilarating. I could see it someday becoming a full-time gig if we really wanted to make a run at it. We just lacked the financial stability to go at it on our own for an extended period of time.
The day jobs take prescedence
In ’06 I moved from Minnesota to North Carolina to pursue a career in online marketing with a Fortune 500 company. Essentially, I had found a day job doing exactly what was so exciting about SuperMotors.net. Being an online site, we felt that we could continue to run the hobby-based-business-that-we-secretly-hoped-would-be-a-full-time-business-someday as if the distance between us would not matter.
It mattered, and in a big way.
Web 2.0 was blowing up and our site was stagnant
The Web 2.0 hoopla was blowing up, web technology was crazy, and hosting was becoming cheaper by the minute — all things that should have contributed to a healthier bottom line, new and innovative features, but they didn’t. My two friends and I were no longer meeting regularly. My move away from the business’ home state had made it extremely difficult to collaborate.
The day jobs were getting more exciting, too.
In 2008, we decided to sell.
The decision to sell
This was a tough, tough decision. By this point, we had 10 years into the site both as a hobby and a business. We knew what we had on our hands, but we did not have the means to take it to the next level that we wanted to — and it was beginning to show. Site updates and feature enhancements were nonexistent. Support requests from our members would go unanswered for weeks. The site was stuck on cruise control at 40 MPH in a 75 MPH speed zone.
Falling victim to the economy
Our buyer in 2008 had to bail on the deal as we were closing in on a finalized sales agreement. So much time had passed since our decision to sell and when we drew up the papers that the economy had gone south, and so did the buyer’s ability to finance the purchase. Up until this point, I had dodged the bad economy impact, but it became real when something as small as our website was a victim of the economy going south. Who knew?
Maybe we just weren’t ready to sell. Did we have a renewed interest in the site? Was this the kick in the pants we needed?
Several months had passed after the deal fell through and it was clear that it was still the right move for us to sell.
Selling the business was the most difficult business decision
The decision to sell (again) was tough. It’s not like we were living off of the site — we weren’t. We all had day jobs. At this point, we had not continued dialogue with sponsors and the site was running break-even. But it was the potential of what could be that was so enticing about the site and what was so troubling about the decision to sell. The “what if’s” plagued us.
Admitting “I can’t make this happen”
I had to objectively look at things. When I did this, it gave me the clarity I needed: I was not going to make this site into the success I hoped and knew it could be. I couldn’t do it.
When you say this to yourself about something that essentially is within your control, it’s a very difficult realization. But, on the flip-side, I have a successful career and the experience in setting up a business, operating a site, meeting with customers, interacting with the end-users — it has all contributed to my professional experience and I had fun while doing it.
It was time to let somebody else do this. And by letting go, I was doing a favor to our end-users who had stuck with us for so long.
It’s sold
As I write this, it’s been nearly two weeks since selling the site. It didn’t become real until I could no longer access the server or had control of the domains. It’s on odd feeling, but there is a sense of relief that the site is in better and more capable hands now than it has been in a couple years. I no longer have a guilty conscience as I look in my inbox — there are no more unanswered customer and/or end-user emails that I tell myself “I’ll get to this weekend.”
In the end, I made the right decision and have no regrets.
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