In the rolling hills of a small, mist-shrouded town in Kentucky, there lived a boy who had always felt there was something a bit… extraordinary about the world. While other kids were busy with football or basketball, he found himself entranced by the hum of engines and the clink of tools. Every old car he’d pass on the street seemed to whisper secrets, and each abandoned part was a treasure waiting to be transformed. This boy—whom his friends lovingly called "The Gearhead"—dreamed of building the world’s greatest machines, magical creations that would carry him to places only his imagination could reach.
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One crisp autumn day, as he wandered the edges of town, he stumbled upon a small, hidden shop he’d never noticed before. Dust danced in the light filtering through the windows, and mysterious objects cluttered the shelves. It was here, in the back of this little shop, that he found it: a battered old 3D printer, shrouded in cobwebs and mystery. The moment he laid eyes on it, a strange feeling washed over him, as though he’d found something he was always meant to discover.
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Taking the printer home, he quickly realized this was no ordinary machine. With a bit of tinkering, he managed to bring it back to life, but something felt… different. Almost like magic. Guided by some invisible force, he began designing small models, creating parts and pieces that, to his amazement, seemed to have a spirit of their own. Wheels turned a bit smoother, parts clicked together just a bit easier, as if the printer itself was sharing a secret with him, whispering tips and tricks in the hum of its gears.
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As his skills grew, he encountered his first mentor—an old mechanic with a glint in his eye and a knack for invention. This mentor had once been an engineer, creating powerful machines and intricate designs that could “do things most people thought impossible.” The mechanic became Gearhead’s guide, teaching him not only the practical skills of engineering but also the mystical side of creation—the intuition, the curiosity, and the trust in oneself that every inventor must have. “Machines can have a soul, kid,” his mentor would say with a wink. “If you’re open to it.”
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Inspired, he dove headfirst into his creations, designing 3D-printable trucks, cars, and everything in between, imbuing each one with that special spark of adventure. It was as if he were part of an ancient tradition, a secret society of creators destined to shape worlds with their hands. Late nights were spent printing, assembling, and testing new designs. Each success brought joy, but each failure was equally magical—a new puzzle, a lesson, a step closer to mastery.
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As time went on, though, the challenges became greater. Gearhead began to notice strange things happening in his workshop—filament spools mysteriously changing color, parts assembling themselves in peculiar ways, and sometimes, his creations would move ever so slightly, as if animated by some unseen spell. It was during one of these odd nights that he discovered a hidden compartment in the printer, containing a tiny, weathered book filled with ancient diagrams and mysterious symbols. Scribbled across the first page was a note: “To the Dreamer, the Gearhead, and the Believer in Things Unseen.”
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This book contained designs he’d never even imagined—trucks with transformations, parts that seemed to defy the laws of physics, and symbols that hinted at even more advanced creations. Fueled by a newfound determination, he dedicated himself to mastering these designs, even if it meant pushing his skills and imagination to their limits.
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Each design became an adventure, a journey of discovery. Some nights, he’d feel as though he was dueling with the printer itself, battling filament jams, warped models, and strange error messages that seemed to pop up out of nowhere. Yet each time, just when he was about to give up, something magical would happen—a glimmer of light would flash from the printer, or a half-formed truck model would suddenly finish printing perfectly, almost as if the machine was encouraging him to keep going.
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And so, after years of trials, he emerged from these challenges a true creator, with a collection of 3D-printable toy trucks unlike anything anyone had seen. But he didn’t stop there. He realized his journey wasn’t meant to end with him alone. Inspired by the magic and joy he’d experienced, he made it his mission to share his creations with others, to bring the thrill of adventure, discovery, and a touch of magic to every person who held one of his creations in their hands.
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Today, each 3D printable toy truck his company produces is more than just a toy—it’s a piece of this magical journey, crafted to inspire young dreamers and seasoned creators alike. Each design is a blend of imagination, skill, and a sprinkle of the mystic—a reminder that sometimes, the most extraordinary things can come from the simplest of dreams. As Gearhead likes to say, “Every truck, every car, every tiny wheel we create has a bit of magic in it, waiting for someone to unlock.”
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Of course, much of this tale is pure fiction, a playful blend of magic and mystery. But it’s inspired by a true story—a real journey of curiosity, late nights in the workshop, and a love for creating. Behind each 3D-printable toy car and truck is the spirit of adventure and the belief that imagination can turn the simplest ideas into extraordinary realities. After all, every great creation begins with a spark of wonder.
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Short(er) Version:
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I like cars. Yep, that’s me in a nutshell. Oh, and I’m a stay-at-home dad, keeping my 19-year-old special needs son entertained while designing these crazy cars.
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My background? Mechanical design. I started with AutoCAD back in the mid-'90s while working for a company that manufactured gearboxes (transmissions) and related components. Around 1998, I stepped into the world of 3D design with "Mechanical Desktop," which eventually morphed into Autodesk Inventor. By 1999, I was elbows-deep in Pro-E (now Creo) and stuck with that for a good while. Somewhere in the early 2000s, I decided to shake things up and dive into Blender—because, why not?
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In 2011, I joined Luxion, the creators of KeyShot. As their one-person tech support team for, well, all of Earth, I also dabbled in trade shows, creating software licenses, and a bit of everything else. During my time there, I made my first digital toon car in 2012: a 1970 442, shown below (rendered in KeyShot, of course). I’ve created a handful of others since then—check my IG if you want to see them! Fast forward to 2017, Luxion decided they’d had enough of me and gave me the boot. Their loss, right?
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In 2019, I landed at Glenro Manufacturing in Maysville, KY, designing massive custom industrial machines—think gigantic lamination machines and ovens. It was a pretty sweet gig, even if it was a little intimidating at first. That’s also the year I bought my first 3D printer, an Ender 3. Seeing my digital toon cars come to life was wild, though I didn’t have much time to tinker with it. Sometime in 2022, I left Glenro to become a stay-at-home dad since my son was about to finish school.
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Okay, enough of my boring backstory—back to making cars!

Even Shorter Version:
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I like cars.