Before there was a brand, a shop, or a public identity, there was a kid spending time where work was happening. Some of my earliest memories come from going to the shop with my dad in Laguna Beach, California. During summer break, I was not off doing what most kids were doing. I was going to work.

That environment shaped me early. I grew up around tools, deadlines, customers, repairs, and real consequences. The shop was not a side interest. It was part of life from the beginning.

One of the earliest stories I still remember happened when I was around six or seven years old. My dad asked me to move his Toyota truck. It was a manual transmission. I started it, put it in reverse, let the clutch out too fast, and backed straight into the rear of my grandpa's Lincoln. My dad had just finished fixing both vehicles. I jumped out and ran as fast as I could because I thought for sure he was going to kill me. One of the employees caught me and brought me back. My dad never said a word.

Those moments say a lot about the kind of childhood I had. It was not polished. It was not ordinary. It was hands on, unpredictable, and shaped by real work. Looking back, those early days taught me a lot about pressure, problem solving, fear, and being around people who built, fixed, and figured things out.

I started working with my dad very young. In fact, there are pictures of me painting when I was three years old. By the time I was fourteen, I had started painting airplanes — mostly small Cessnas and Pipers. I did that until I was around eighteen or nineteen and probably painted around twenty of them.

Then came the truck scene. We started cutting up our own trucks and building them our way. One day a guy named Jack flagged me down and asked me to come work for him. That was Fat Jack, builder of the world's fastest 40 Ford and a respected name in hot rods. I worked for him for about sixteen months and got paid in cash. He taught me a lot. Rest in peace Jack.

Eventually I found myself running a shop in Temecula. Before long, magazines were showing up to shoot pictures. The work was getting noticed. The name was growing. We ended up in a place that was unforgettable — twelve tattoo artists, pole dancing classes upstairs, a keg of beer when you walked in, and glass windows where people could look right into the shop.

It was a different time. A wild time. And like many chapters, it eventually faded. But the shop years were some of the most formative years of my life. Creative, intense, chaotic, exciting, and full of lessons I still carry.

For a long time, I thought I was just building cars, bikes, paint, and projects. Looking back, I can see that I was always building something deeper. Identity. Presence. Atmosphere. Standards. Transformation.

Over time, I realized the same mindset that applies to a build also applies to a business, a brand, a life. Inputs matter. Systems matter. Standards matter. Shortcuts always show up in the final result.

The vision now is still rooted in the same core principles. Build with intention. Build with standards. Build something real. Build something that lasts.

Kustom King was never just a business name. It was a body of work, a creative identity, and a chapter of life built through custom cars, hot rods, choppers, paint, magazines, travel, and culture.

It became known because it came from real experience. It was not manufactured. It was earned through the work itself, through the style, through the long days, and through the standards behind it.

Kustom King now becomes an apparel brand and creative outlet that keeps the legacy alive without requiring the same daily physical commitment of a full custom shop. Legacy should not disappear just because life evolves.

Better inputs create better outcomes. That applies to everything. Health. Business. Relationships. Brands. Life.

I still care about standards. I still care about quality. I still care about identity. I still care about what is real. Today, I am applying those values to bioavailability technology — engineering cellular delivery systems at Pure Path Northwest with the same precision I brought to every build.

This chapter is not about abandoning the past. It is about building from it with greater purpose. The same guy who won Truck of the Year now engineers the delivery system that makes supplements actually work.