300,000 Miles. One Mission.

Today, my old Toyota Yaris crossed 300,000 miles. But this isn’t just about a car; it’s about a journey.

My dad gave me this car back in 2020. It had just over 100,000 miles on it. He couldn’t drive anymore because his vision was fading fast. The surgery he needed to save it was canceled because of government shutdowns during COVID. Bureaucrats decided what was “essential.” My dad didn’t make the list.

That broke something in me. And it lit a fire too.

I ran for office not because I ever saw myself as a leader, but because I knew someone had to fight for the people who get overlooked, people like my dad. People like the ones I’ve met at over 15,000 front doors since becoming a State Rep. People who aren’t asking for much, just for someone to listen and to never forget where they come from.

I haven’t forgotten.

While some other politicians might enjoy the fast-paced, social atmosphere of Columbus, I count the days until I’m back home in the 90th District, shaking hands at county fairs, answering the questions that matter most to folks, showing up when nobody else will. That’s who I am. That’s what this car represents.

This Yaris has been through it. I’ve hit deer. A mailbox. One time, a rim just fell off. It rattles. It squeaks. But it starts every morning, just like I do. It gets 40 miles per gallon on a good day. And like Lloyd says in 1994 comedy hit Dumb and Dumber: “I can get 70 MPG on this hog.”

I’ve never been flashy. I’m not polished like a Corvette. But that’s okay. Because flash doesn’t get you through blizzards to a town hall meeting. Flash doesn’t knock on 100 doors in the rain. Flash doesn’t take a beating and keep going.

But dependability does. And so does heart.

All I’ve ever done to this car is change the oil, brakes, rotors, axles, and filter. I keep it running the way I try to keep this office running—simple, honest, and built to last.

300,000 miles later, I still feel like I’m just getting started.