12:54PM yesterday, I was handed a moment.
Not a moment I would have chosen. Not a moment any of us would. But one of those raw, unfiltered experiences that life offers when it wants you to really listen.
It started with a phone call.
"We don’t know what happened, but Cam’s been in an accident, he flipped the truck."
And just like that, everything slowed down but my heart rate. My breath. My body. I was waiting for the next words, the ones that mattered most.
Cam, one of the most dedicated volunteers we have at our aircraft racing series, National STOL, was driving across the country. Not for a paycheck. Not for glory. For love. For vision. For belief in something bigger than himself.
He was driving our new truck, towing our production trailer through Montana, enroute to our next race in Wisconsin. The person who called it in said he’d just passed Cam when he saw the trailer begin to fishtail wildly. They were headed downhill, and the winds were ripping across the plains into the venturi of the pass.
Cam fought it bravely. He’s an incredibly cautious driver and caring person. He’s been working SO hard to help us bring this series to the world… But in a flash, it was too late. He could have tumbled into the crevasse to the left, but instead smashed into the silt covered hillside to the right. The truck tumbling at least 180 degrees, the trailer falling to its side.
12:54PM I got the call. I waited for the words, as my heart rate skyrocketed. “There’s smoke from the truck, but Cam got out, he’s okay”.
Hours passed, information passed from person to person with no clear picture of what was happening. National STOL has at its heart, the most incredible community of humans. Cam had lost his phone in the accident and was transported to the hospital with a minor injury. His Mom called me to fill me in on all she knew. She shared photos, videos, and snapchats, he was getting from other first responders on his Nurse’s phone (yes, you read that correctly. Only in Montana, would your nurse leave their phone with you to keep up to date with the world outside your hospital room).
Our COO, Karen filled our pilot community in on what had happened from her hard earned vacation in Europe. The outpouring of support was incredible. People prepared to drive or fly for a half day or more to help us rescue whatever could be recovered. My phone vibrated, buzzed, and rang like nothing else, all day.
Finally, late in the afternoon as the sound of my children’s voices returned to our home from school, I got a call from Officer Ethan of the Montana Highway Patrol. He sounded young, personable, and sympathetic.
He couldn’t believe Cam had gotten out… And there it was, the feeling in my heart that I hadn’t yet let out.
A flipped vehicle, so much uncertainty… My heart’s racing.
Seven years, one day earlier… My brother’s car had flipped end over end. He’d been ejected from his seat and a short time later, he was gone.
I’ve sat with the grief of that moment so much. Yet, it still holds me at times, especially on the anniversaries, the birthdays, the moments he should be here. Of course this experience was lighting up my nervous system with the similarities… But Cam? Cam was okay.
Grief isn't linear. Trauma isn’t tidy. But presence is powerful. Presence is how we heal. Presence is how we move forward.
When the Officer called, it changed everything. This was no longer a rescue mission for the hundreds of thousands of dollars we’d invested into the truck, trailer, and production equipment. It was all on a Viking style pyre… Except for the most important thing, human life.
This series runs on the backs of volunteers. Cam represents hundreds of humans who pour in without expectation of any return except to make the world they care about better, safer, and more accessible.. And in one fiery instant, the very embodiment of that sacrifice and commitment was tested.
So yes, the trailer is gone. Yes, it hurts. Yes, we lost more than equipment, we lost something special we’d built.
But we gained a forcing function.
Sometimes it takes fire to clear the way for what’s next. Sometimes it takes a total loss to usher in what we were truly meant to build. Maybe now we finally get the semi-trailer. Maybe now we step into the next phase of the dream.
Cam is okay. That’s the miracle. The rest will work itself out.
If you’re reading this and you market to men, or know someone who does, we had 87 million men watch our broadcasts and videos last year. We’re on track for 120,000,000 viewers this year. We’d love to promote brands we believe in, who believe in people pushing themselves to be the best version of themselves.
Racing brings us all together, bettering ourselves makes us feel like family.
P.S. If you happen to be an expert on insurance, it appears our commercial coverage will only replace a small portion of the value, feel free to reach out with wisdom for us! Thank you for reading.
P.P.S. If you’ve never heard of National STOL but want to come to one of our events to see the incredible humans, amazing airplanes, etc. Drop me a message and I’ll gladly comp my friends tickets to be a part of the experience. I started as a volunteer for this organization before it became a part of our holdings.
It’s SUCH a special group of humans.