We didn’t come into this season quietly. We came in with ambition, drive, and a whole lot of heart. A brand-new car. A young Driver with 15 years of competition under his belt in Bracket Racing, entering his Rookie Season in Outlaws. A team built on passion, integrity, and a love for the sport. We weren’t just here to race—we were here to build something that mattered. To make friends. To learn. To grow.
And learn we did. Some lessons came with high-fives and glowing scoreboards. Others came with fire, twisted metal, and the kind of heartbreak you don’t forget.
Couple of Videos UpShift360 and In Car Go Pro
The Beginning
We started smart. No ego, no shortcuts. Just a brand-new full-body 4000+ HP beast and a driver stepping into the unknown. We tuned conservatively. We said, “Let’s crawl before we run.” And then… we ran.
Chevy and the 1970 Chevelle YETI clicked instantly- a factory made fit. The early passes were clean, confident, and full of promise. We were building something special.
Then came the first curveball—Speed Promotions canceled New Hampshire and the Canadian events. Disappointing? Sure. But we don’t wait for doors to open—we build our own damn door. We hit Edmonton and Mission, and the team showed up ready to roll.
Edmonton was electric. The vibe, the facility, the people—it was everything racing should be. We don’t have the numbers from that weekend, but the performance was there. The team was dialed in. Chevy was locked in. The car was singing.
Mission was magic. For the first time in Outlaw history, The boards lit up: 3.75, 3.75, 3.74, and a final 3.72 at an average 198 MPH. That’s not luck. That’s hard work, trust, and a team firing on all cylinders. We were ready for the second half of the tour.
Then came curveball number two—Speed Promotions canceled the rest of the season.
Detours & Dead Ends
Maple Grove stepped up to take over the Outlaw “Unfinished Business” event which we planned to attend. A few other opportunities rolled in, including Outlaw Armageddon in Tulsa. We’d heard good things about the event so we packed up and hit the road for Oklahoma.
But when we got to Tulsa, something felt off. Fan turnout was low. Only five Big Tire Outlaw cars after being assured there would be 12 -15. On Friday morning, the promoter asked Chevy to decide the race format. That’s not how it’s supposed to work. Pit talk confirmed it—this wasn’t the event most expected.
Still, Chevy did what Chevy does—he made the best of it. Grudge matches, fun rivalries, and a plan to salvage the weekend.
Then came Thursday’s test and tune. On the second pass of the evening, Chevy aborted the run before the tree. Why? Because the track crew only cleaned one lane after a major incident. That should’ve been our warning.
The Night Everything Changed
Friday started strong. First pass was clean and fast. Spirits were high. Late into the night, we prepped for another run. Again, after a major incident. Chevy lined up. Officials said the track was clear. He trusted them.
About 200 feet in, the car started drifting. Chevy cut the power. The tail end floated. The car slammed into the wall in a burst of flames no mother should ever have to witness.
But Chevy? He kept his cool. Fire suppression engaged. Out of the car fast. Youth, agility, and a calm head saved him. He walked away with a headache and a story that could’ve ended much worse.
I’ve never been so relieved to see that cow-print firesuit.
The aftermath was chaos. Photos showed sand on the track—right where the car lost traction sending him into the wall. First Official to respond had no extinguisher. Wearing shorts no less. Took 37 seconds for Responders with fire suppression help to arrive. No ambulance. Fans—including a child—crowded the incident hot zone. Unacceptable.
A Mother’s Perspective
People often ask me, “Does it scare you, watching your son race?” And the truth is—it’s complicated. Of course there’s worry. From the moment your child takes their first breath, you carry a quiet concern through every milestone: first steps, first solo drive, first late night out. Racing isn’t necessarily more dangerous—it’s just woven into the fabric of our lives. It’s what we do. It’s what we love.
You learn to trust. You trust the equipment. You trust the team. You trust the driver. And you trust the track. But after Tulsa, I can honestly say that trust has been shaken. Three out of four still stand strong. The fourth—we’ll be looking at differently from now on.
As someone who’s spent my entire adult career in track operations, I’ve always taken safety seriously—maybe even to the point of being a “overbearing” (those who know-know). But I’ve never apologized for that. No kids under 16 in hot zones. Crew wristbands required. Full tech inspections on every vehicle. Response teams in full fire gear, rescue vehicle engines running, ready to roll. Long pants, capped sleeves, closed-toe shoes for all crew and officials. Spotters. Track walks. Redundancy. Precision. No shortcuts. No “good enough.” Because lives are on the line.
What I witnessed in Tulsa didn’t meet that standard. And unfortunately, we felt the consequences firsthand.
I’m not here to point fingers—I’m here to advocate for better. Every driver and every team knows the risks when they take the tree. We accept that. But we also have the right to expect that every possible measure has been taken to protect us when things go wrong.
Moving forward, we’ll be taking a much more hands-on approach to track safety. Pre-run assessments won’t be optional—they’ll be essential. Trust will be earned, not assumed.
We’re not backing down. We’re just getting smarter. And we’re doing it for every driver, every crew member, and every family who stands behind the wall and watches someone they love chase a dream at 200+ MPH.
ReBuild Mode
So, what’s next? The YETI needs serious TLC. But our racing family showed up. Clay Cole and his daughter Hanah took the hauler to their shop. Fabricators are lining up. Sideshow’s got our body and paint covered.
There was only one event left—Maple Grove, sorry we’re going to miss it- it’s almost time to wrap anyway. With winter coming in Alberta, we’ll regroup, rebuild, and come back stronger in 2026. This time, we’re sticking with professional organizations and proven tracks.
Fire and twisted metal won’t stop us. We love this sport. We love this life. And we’re not done yet.
To the teams and families who helped us through the chaos:
Thank You!
Clay Cole, Hanah & Team, Fireball, Murder Nova, Sunshine & Puddin’, Sandlin Family with the Junkyard Stude (thank you ladies- you made the entire endeavor as a Mom so much easier to bare), Tyler Philpot- an amazing fan with nothing but heart and a strong back), Jerry & Brandon ‘Monza’ Johnson– had to be tough to see the destruction, Cole Pesz– we can’t say enough to thank you for everything you do and the person you are. Jeff Sams– we needed a veteran, and you rose to the occasion. Dean– you were most delicately there in spirit…and on the phone…and on text…we’re not going to leave you alone. A sincere heartfelt Shout Out to Team Owner, Dad & Husband– sometimes your cool demeanor is a bit eerie at times (stormtrooper face), but it sure is appreciated more than you know when things go sideways.
TO THE FANS—your support in the pits on Saturday kept us going. Every kind word and bit of encouragement mattered.
We need your support now more than ever. Buy a shirt. Sign up for updates. Follow us on social @helluvachevy We’ve got stories to tell, and we’re just getting started.
A Very Special Thank You to Our Sponsors
To our incredible sponsors—thank you. You stood by us through the highs, the heartbreaks, and the unexpected twists that came with our rookie season. This journey wasn’t perfect, but it was unforgettable. And your support made it possible.
From the first test pass to the fire-lit chaos in Tulsa, you believed in us. You saw the vision and the heart behind this team. You didn’t just fund a race program—you fueled a dream. You gave us the chance to show what we’re made of, and we’re proud to carry your names with us every time we roll up to the line.
We’re not done. Not even close. The rebuild is already in motion, and 2026 is calling. Thanks to you, we’ll be back—stronger and more determined than ever.
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