I’m a 6'2" bastard born in 1997. Post-soviet, European mental breakdown era, gray blocks of flats, terrible roads, and a river nobody swam in. My old man was a truck driver, my granddad was a truck driver, my great-granddad too - you get the drill. A whole bloodline of gas and loud pipes. Somehow, I put my hands to another line of work (but my heart will always be behind the wheel, iykyk).

I wasn’t the most extroverted kid on the block. Glued to a screen, wasting daylight in Los Santos, racking up hours in MMORPGs, countless FIFA tournaments, customizing dream cars in Need for Speed Underground 2, shooting russkies in Counter Strike. I just liked having my own world and grind games.

I grew up hanging around auto shops with my old man, watching wall calendars with naked hookers printed on. That’s where I fell in love with cars – the bigger, louder, Redneck-er, the better. Cadillacs, Mustangs, Chevys. Anything with pipes loud enough to scare the shit out of passing grannies. My father is a Harley Davidson guy, and he definitely passed that to me. Today, I ride a 2015 Dyna Fat Bob – this shit just makes you feel like the highway and the world belongs to you.

Proud European on the outside, wanna-be hillbilly deep inside.