You Can’t Outrun a Billboard

Publisher’s Note:

We often receive stories from within this remarkable industry. As the clear leader in readership and subscriptions among Independent OOH Owners, OOH Today takes pride in highlighting independent owners’ experiences—especially heartfelt ‘family stories’ like this one from the son of a self-made independent owner. This story stands out as especially impressive. We truly enjoy sharing these family narratives and hope you do too.

You Can’t Outrun a Billboard
My name is Justin Pate; I work for Trailhead Media. My current role is as an AE but grew up in this industry. My father owned a small plant in Prattville, Alabama. The OOH Industry has been a family affair almost since birth. For as long as I can remember, I have been around billboards. I have ran crane trucks, auger trucks, scraped billboard panels, etc. I watched my father closely and have a lot of respect for this industry of ours. I wrote an article and would like to share it with you. 

What I learned from trying to avoid the family business—and why it matters in today’s OOH world

By Justin Pate

I spent a good part of my life trying to avoid the billboard business.

Not casually avoid it—intentionally run from it.

My father, LaDon Pate, started his own billboard company in 1982. And from the outside looking in, it didn’t look like a career. It looked like exhaustion. He did everything himself—found the locations, negotiated the leases, pulled the permits, ordered the steel, dug the holes, built the structures, sold the advertising, and even painted the signs.

There was no separation between the man and the work. It was all one and the same.

And as a kid, I made a quiet promise: that won’t be me.

I wanted something easier. Something cleaner. Something that didn’t require dirt under my fingernails and long days that stretched into longer nights.

But what I didn’t understand then was that I wasn’t just watching hard work—I was watching ownership. I was watching accountability. I was watching a man build something from nothing, with no safety net and no shortcuts.

And more than anything, I was watching consistency.

Over time, that consistency turned into something bigger than I realized. The business didn’t just survive—it provided. It put my siblings and me through college. It created stability where there otherwise might not have been any.

My brother saw it clearly before I did. He leaned in, followed in my dad’s footsteps, and built his own billboard company. In time, he successfully sold that business—but not before proving to himself that he could build something real. He didn’t run from it—he embraced it.

I took the longer road.

But eventually, the industry I tried so hard to avoid found me anyway.

Or maybe it’s more accurate to say—it never really let me go.

Because the truth is—you can’t outrun your legacy.

I’ve now spent years working in out-of-home, and somewhere along the way, my perspective changed. What once looked like hard, thankless work started to look like opportunity. What once felt limiting started to feel foundational.

Because OOH isn’t just advertising—it’s impact. It’s helping a small business get noticed. It’s helping a brand grow. It’s being part of the physical landscape of a community.

And it’s people.

That’s the part that doesn’t get talked about enough. The relationships in this industry—the landowners, the clients, the crews, the reps—are what make it meaningful. Over the years, I’ve met people I never would have crossed paths with otherwise. I’ve learned lessons that go far beyond sales or structures.

Lessons about patience. About persistence. About showing up even when it’s hard.

And maybe most importantly—lessons about legacy.

Because whether I realized it at the time or not, I wasn’t just running from a job. I was running from something that helped shape who I am.

Now, as I get older—and as the gray in my beard becomes a little more noticeable—I find myself looking back with a different kind of clarity.

I’m proud of what my father built.

I’m proud of what my brother built—and the fact that he saw it through to the finish.

And I’m proud to be part of an industry that I once underestimated.

There’s a certain irony in all of it.

The thing I tried hardest to avoid ended up becoming one of the most important parts of my life.

Turns out, you can’t outrun a billboard.

And if you’re lucky, you don’t have to.