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Every great myth starts in a garage. And in 1976, Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak gave us one of the best. It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t even a startup, really. It was two guys in a suburban Los Altos garage, one a technical wizard (Woz), the other a visionary wild card (Jobs). They weren’t building a company. They were building a future. Wozniak created the Apple I, a clunky, brilliant machine made by a pure-hearted engineer who just wanted to tinker. Jobs? He saw something bigger. He saw people buying this. Not just geeks. Not just nerds. Everyone. Jobs wasn't satisfied with wires and code. He wanted something beautiful. He wanted the experience of using a computer to feel like poetry in motion. Friendly. Human. Alive. That obsession led to the Apple II, a game-changer with color graphics, a sleek look, and a real shot at the mainstream. It didn’t just attract users—it attracted believers. Apple wasn’t a company anymore. It was becoming a movement. And at the center? Jobs, barefoot, intense, 21 years old, demanding everything from everyone. He could light up a room and burn it down in the same breath. He was a master storyteller. Investors listened. Employees followed. The world leaned in. By 1984, Apple launched the Macintosh. With its graphical interface, mouse, and the now-legendary “1984” Super Bowl ad directed by Ridley Scott, Apple wasn’t just competing, it was challenging authority. It was saying: We’re not IBM. We’re not suits. We’re the misfits, the rebels, the round pegs in square holes. The Mac was Jobs’ baby. But he pushed too hard. Clashed with leadership. Obsessed over every pixel. And in 1985, Apple’s board ousted him. Gone. Exiled from his own dream. But even in failure, the myth was growing. Jobs had planted the seed: that technology should feel like an extension of your soul. That a computer could be more than a machine, it could be a companion, a canvas, a revolution. And sure, he was gone from Apple… But Steve Jobs wasn’t done. Not even close.