The First Day of the Rest of My LIFE

Follow along as I take our family business from the garage to the big leagues.

It’s 7:56 am, a gloomy and rainy day here in Portland, Oregon. I am sitting on the couch of my childhood home.

Bruce Lee famously encouraged people to, “be like water.” Well, I’ve been more like a boomerang.

Over the past decade, I’ve come and gone from this place over a dozen times. I’ve said my farewells, quit my job, and accepted the well-wishes from friends and family hoping I’ll find what I’m looking for in some distant land.

Each time, I’ve left through the front door with a smile on my face and a one-way ticket, thinking, This is my moment!

But despite all these sudden, dramatic exits and extraordinary, continent-spanning adventures, I—like a well-trained Golden Retriever—always come back. And that’s what’s been killing me.

Some of my earlier trips were purely for the sake of exploration. I wanted to be an 18-year-old surf bum in Mexico, a rambunctious party fiend in Bali, or a train-hopping vagabond in Europe.

Eventually, these pursuits left me wanting more, and I felt an urge to seek a greater level of depth in my life.

As I was sitting on a park bench in Florence, Italy, at age 23, fresh off an eight-month stint as a tour guide, I remember thinking, It’s time to get real. It’s time to go for a proper, stable career—something that pays the bills, has good benefits, and provides steady income!

With that thought in mind, I decided to return from Europe, move to LA, and embark on the rock-solid career path of becoming a musician.

I spent six months at home in Portland working 70 to 80 hours per week to save up for the move to California. In order to reach my savings goal, I spent nearly every day working as a bartender and server at a small restaurant inside the local athletic club—a place I’d already “quit” and been rehired at five times.

It was March 2020. With a freshly earned $25K in savings, I packed my life, guitar, and surfboard into my ‘99 Toyota Corolla and hit the road. When I arrived in LA, the pandemic hit—the world shut down—and I drove back to Portland three weeks later.

Eventually, in June of 2020, I moved back to LA, where I spent over a year before returning to Oregon once again. Thus began the next phase of my life: attempted career-building.

My pursuit of music was the first of many career rabbit holes I’d embark down. Post-LA, I had a phase in which, broke and once again living at my childhood home, I’d scream motivational rants into the camera and post them to TikTok.  All 97 viewers found it riveting.  

Then, I attempted to start a guided meditation YouTube channel with a dentist. After that, I moved to Bali and worked with my friend, who made viral Indonesian food content. I also did freelance writing and video editing during my time there to pay the bills.

While my life on that little island was fantastic, I yet again felt a need for greater fulfilment and purpose in life.  

Upon returning from Bali, I decided to move to Nashville to give country music a try. On the way to Tennessee, I spent three months back in LA working at a Michelin-star restaurant.

And when the country music scene just didn’t do it for me, I decided to leave Nashville. This was just about a year ago.

In August of 2023, I made plans, just as I had many times before, to move to Nashville and spend the rest of my life there. In April 2024, I packed my bags and hit the road for another long drive right back home.

It’s hard to say that I didn’t feel a bit like a failure. When put frankly, I’d attempted to do many things yet found no tangible success in any of them. And when each attempt didn’t go as I’d hoped, it started to add up.

Now, in hindsight, I realize this is a terrible mindset—one that far too many people fall victim to. But at the time, it felt very real.

I did have hope, though. My time in all of these places and the experiences I’d had at least left me with some skills. And I was now going to see if I could put them all to the test.

My father had called me a couple of months before I left Nashville, and we discussed the possibility of me returning home to work for him. He and his business partner had started a small business in the ‘80s selling handcycles—think three wheels, two in the back, one in the front, and you pedal with both hands to make it move.

As serial inventors, they discovered that there was a market for their recumbent tricycles, especially amongst the disabled community, who either had no or limited use of their legs.

Fast forward almost 40 years. While their products have changed the lives of many people all over the world, the business was still small—very small. My dad and his business partner still built each handcycle out of our garage, and at that point, they were the only two employees left in the company.

I’d grown up with it, seen the benefits to people as they came to and from our house to pick up their new ride. But I just couldn’t see myself spending the rest of my life building handcycles in our garage.

When he called me that night last February, I was skeptical. I paced around my neighborhood, listening as he laid it all out

The main problems with the business were that it wasn’t scalable, and barely anyone knew who the hell we were! But my dad had begun the process of working with a high-end Chinese manufacturer who was delivering amazing results. Plus, the product was solid and had a cult following of people who majorly benefitted from it.

Wrapping up the call, I started to think to myself, Maybe those random skills I’ve picked up along the way could help us take things to the next level.

So I left Music City in April 2024 with a pep in my step and the confidence to change the world, bring handcycling to the masses, and take our business straight to the top! But, like most things in life, it never works exactly as you anticipate.

Upon my return home to Oregon we hit a bit of a roadblock as we transitioned our manufacturing from a two-car garage in Portland to a proper factory in China.

As our old inventory dried up and winter’s usual sales slump set in, we entered a period of pseudo-hibernation, waiting for the big news.

Finally, in early February, we got word that production would begin at the end of the month. I filed my visa paperwork, booked my flights, and, with a mix of anxious anticipation and excitement, came to terms with the fact that my life was really about to begin.

All of this leads me to the explanation for this blog. I realized that I, Forrest—a surf bum, world traveler, vagabond—am next in line to take over a small business. A business I hope to grow into something that changes the world and helps people.

In order to do this, I’m going to need to draw on my past lives, seek knowledge from the most competent people in my life, all while simultaneously learning new skills and finding new people to help me as I progress.

The bottom line is that I think there’s a rare set of skills required to do what I’m attempting to do, and I would like to document all of the ways in which I drag myself from rags to (hopeful) riches.

I want readers to find value in the lessons I learn and hopefully utilize the information in these blogs to grow their own businesses.

I want people to see that the skills one learns in any field can be applied to another. The musician might know skills that would help a Wall Street banker. The bike manufacturer might be able to help a painter. And the CEO could even help a parent!

As someone who spent time in an ultra-artistic don’t force it, let creativity come to you phase, I used to think that business ruined the nuances of life—the serendipity of the moment. But now I realize business is life, and acceptance of this fact is the key to a happy existence in an ever-capitalistic world.

Next week, I board a plane for China to oversee our first production run. A year ago, I was doubtful, anxious, and often left thinking that the wildest times of my life were behind me. Now, I see that they are just about to begin.