My father. He was an incredibly hard-working, dedicated man. Tough and scary as fuck, yet would crack jokes that nearly made you piss your pants. He didn't "make it" in life until relatively late -- his early forties -- which has also always been inspiring to me. He was unpretentious and found most attempts at profundity either amusing or offensive. He gave me some of the best pieces of advice I've ever had in life, from incredibly basic shit like dressing for meetings to complex stuff about manipulating people who are against you. If you could get him to speak more than two words at a time -- rare -- you would have done well to STFU and pay attention.
When I was a little kid, my father was a schoolteacher during the day. He'd wrap up at school, go home and change, and drive 45 minutes to his second job, where he turned wrenches and drove a tow truck for an after-hours garage. He worked a full shift there, drove home, took a shower, then did it all over again. On weekends he picked up work restoring cars and boats, bought fixed up and sold endless classic cars and boats etc. He did this shit for years, during what might have otherwise been the best years of his life -- from his mid-twenties to his early thirties. I never even knew -- in fact, I grew up resenting him for "never being there" not realising that while I was pining about my lack of a positive male role model my father was working like a fucking slave to make sure that his family, including his retarded ingrate son, were taken care of. He literally never said a word about this until I was thirty years old, bitching about working 100 hour weeks that I was back then. Sort of a "Been there done that" for him.
He ended up making it big when stuff he was designing and putting into people's cars that he fixed started finding its way into dealerships. General Motors literally came looking for him in the mid 80s; the work he did there ultimately influenced automotive computer technology for the whole industry. He did all of that strictly through hard work and trial-and-error; he had no formal training or education in that field. He just tried and tried again until something worked, and took shit tons of notes in the process.
When he died (it's fresh, hence my verbosity, beg your pardon -- beg your pardon twice if you have me on Facebook and have therefore already been through reams of this stuff) people came out of the woodwork, old students, coworkers, racing buddies from when he was young, all of them saying just about the same thing -- that he had changed their lives in some way. Everybody had a story, not just a generic "sorry for your loss" but literally nearly everybody that showed up had some story where my dad had guided them, helped them or terrified them into a choice that made their lives better. He was an extraordinary man in every sense of the word, my personal hero and from what I can tell that of several others.
Frank