"Sam and I have been friends forever, but before we built the right gear, our world was pretty small. We'd go to the movies or play cards — though playing cards with Sam is a nightmare because he's a prolific cheater.

In all seriousness, those early days were tough. We'd hang out with Sam for a bit, then have to drop him off at home so the rest of us could go do the 'real' adventure. It felt wrong. It wasn't cool to leave a friend behind just because the pavement ended. That frustration is exactly why the Extreme Motus chair exists. Now, there's no 'dropping him off.' If we're going, he's going. The equipment finally caught up to our friendship."

"The moment I realized this changed everything wasn't actually about Sam — it was about his mom. We were at the top of the trail at Delicate Arch in Arches National Park. I had brought the Extreme Motus chair along thinking, 'This is going to be great for Sam.' And it was. He looked up at that massive red rock arch and thought it was the coolest thing ever.

But then I looked at his mom, and she was in tears. For 36 years, that family had lived a divided life. Every vacation, every hike, every outing ended with her sitting in the van with Sam while the rest of the family went off to explore. For 36 years, she watched from the parking lot. Standing there under that arch, it hit me: we didn't just give Sam a ride. For the first time in nearly four decades, we made that family whole again."

"We've pushed this chair through some incredible places, and it has never let us down — even when we were testing its absolute limits. The hike to Lower Calf Creek Falls near Escalante was a beast. The trail is narrow, jagged, and unforgiving. We weren't just pushing; we were tilting the chair onto two wheels, lifting it over boulders, and navigating tight rock squeezes. It was physically draining, but it proved a point: if you have the right team and enough motivation, this chair will go anywhere you're determined to take it.

As I always say: 'With enough profanity, you can accomplish anything.'"

"In our early videos, you'll see a rotation of caretakers helping Sam. But eventually, it just made sense for me to take over that role. So, by day, I'm helping run a business — and part-time, I'm Sam's caretaker. On camera, we're the stand-up comedy duo; Sam is the easiest audience in the world, and he makes me feel like I'm ready for The Tonight Show.

But what the camera doesn't capture is the raw, personal side of our friendship: feeding him, shaving him, and changing his diapers. People ask if that's hard, but honestly, it's what keeps me grounded. It's a paid job, sure, but it feels like a deeper kind of service. It's made me a better person. And Sam is incredible through it all — he's constantly thanking me for being his friend. Well, at least when he isn't threatening to hit me in the back of the head with a metal chair because I've been teasing him too much. That's just the DNA of our friendship."

"On the surface, we're advertising a wheelchair. But on a deeper level, we're teaching the world the true meaning of inclusion. To me, inclusion isn't about being 'nice' — it's about treating everyone exactly like everyone else.

It drives Sam and me crazy when people walk up to Sam and slow down their speech or raise their pitch like they're talking to a child. Nobody wants that. Everyone — disability or not — just wants to be treated normal. So I treat Sam like I treat any of my friends: I tease him, I'm blunt with him, and we do occasionally dangerous things together, because boys will be boys.

It actually freaks people out. We once had the police show up at our shop in Utah because someone in Ohio saw a video and reported us for 'abuse.' We showed the officers around, showed them the footage, and they realized we were just two guys having an adventure. People aren't used to seeing someone in a wheelchair doing normal stuff — and our mission is to change that."

"It's a massive challenge to build a mobility product that works for everyone, because disability isn't a monolith. Cerebral Palsy is a wide spectrum. ALS is a disease that changes and progresses every single month. There is no 'standard' user.

But what we do is use Sam's life as a proof of concept. When people watch our videos, they aren't just seeing Sam — they're seeing a mirror of their own lives. They realize that if this chair can get Sam through the mud in Utah, it can get their child through the grass at the local park, or their friend back onto the beach.

We know that 99% of our customers aren't going to take their chairs through a rocky riverbed or up a mountain switchback like Sam and I do. But there's a reason we film those extreme moments. We want families to see that the chair is over-engineered for their safety and durability. We do the extreme so they can feel confident in the everyday."

"We're on a mission to redefine inclusion. Most people think being inclusive means being 'extra nice,' but it actually means being 'extra normal.' When you walk up to Sam and slow down your speech or use a baby voice, you might think you're being kind — but it actually feels condescending. It strips away a person's dignity. My advice? Just talk normal. If they need you to slow down, they'll ask. Don't start the conversation by assuming they're less than you. Treat the person, not the disability."

"Lower Calf Creek was a beast, but Kyhv Peak? That was a reality check. We went into that one under-prepared and under-staffed — it was just me and Sam's nephew, and the mountain didn't care. We were pushing and pulling Sam through terrain that demanded a full squad. We eventually ran out of water and had to make the hard call to turn back before the summit.

But that's the thing about our team — we don't take 'no' for an answer indefinitely. We have plans to get our revenge on Kyhv Peak this year. We're coming back with the right team, the right supplies, and we're going to stand on that summit together."

"The biggest thing I want people to know is that nature is wheelchair accessible. You just have to find the right tool to unlock it. For some, that's an Extreme Motus chair; for others, it might be something else. Whatever it is, take the time to find it. Don't let the search stop you from getting out there.

Because at the end of the day, nobody looks back on their life and treasures the memories of playing video games or watching TV. Your core memories — the ones that stick with you forever — are the ones made in the dirt, on the trails, and under the sun with the people you love. With the right equipment, those memories are waiting for you. Go get them."

"I recently traveled to Iceland to deliver a chair, and I fought like hell to find a way to bring Sam with me. It didn't work out this time, but that trip made me realize how much of the world Sam hasn't seen yet. My goal now is to get him on more of these international trips. I don't just want Sam to experience the world — I want the world to experience the joy that Sam brings. Seeing him navigate a black sand beach or an Icelandic waterfall would do more for the message of inclusion than a thousand commercials ever could."