Sunday, August 19, 2018 — I had just returned home from another Roadkill shoot. This time, it was a 10-day run, and I hadn’t had a single moment to stop and think for myself.

By then, life on the road was second nature. I gave my all to a team at the forefront of car culture—people who connected with everyday fans and lived for the thrill of bringing them along for the ride.

We started in Pontiac, MI, filming Roadkill Nights—an action-packed Dodge brand activation with drag racing on Woodward Ave. and a crowd of up to 40,000. The weekend was full. And when the crowds cleared, Freiburger and Finnegan swapped a transmission in their ’74 Jaguar “Draguar” and road-tripped to Brainerd, MN, to race Leah Pruett at the NHRA Brainerd Nationals.

The trip itself was classic Roadkill:

• A Michigan State Police officer staged a prank one night.
• We crossed Lake Michigan by ferry to Milwaukee.
• We rolled into Brainerd just in time for the event.

I’d never been to an NHRA race before and, honestly, I was skeptical. I figured it wasn’t for me. In hindsight, I was being a snob. But then came the first Top Fuel round.

When those cars launched, the sound didn’t just hit you—it consumed everything. You could see the air ripple as 11,000 horsepower tore through the crowd. In just over three seconds, they were at 300 mph. I hated the first couple passes. Then I got close enough to watch one from the start line, and in that instant, I understood the hype. The engineering, the precision—it hooked me. That day, I became “Nitro Nole.”

It was a perfect bookend to a wild run of back-to-back shoots.

Back in Los Angeles
I wasn’t slowing down. That afternoon, I hit my favorite barcade to see a friend DJ, then headed to the Comedy Store to support another friend’s stand-up set. Whiskey, beer, more whiskey. Somewhere in there, I realized I hadn’t eaten, but by the time I grabbed food, I was well past my limit.

When I tried to close out my tab, they told me I’d have to wait until the end of the show. Fair enough—it keeps the room still—but I knew I shouldn’t stay. The energy in my body was shifting fast, from belly laughs to raw irritability, and then, in the back of an Uber, straight into a sharp sadness.

That’s when it hit me.

Just before this trip, we’d lost a good friend and his mother in a tragic accident. I’d been outrunning it the whole time. But you can’t outrun grief. All of it—pain, exhaustion, alcohol—came crashing down at once.

I slept horribly, but in the morning, I made a decision:

• No more drinking.
• No more smoking.
• No more hiding from feelings.

That was seven years ago.

I’ve been a brand new man ever since.

Health is my foundation for a bountiful existence.