Portland International Raceway is more than a racetrack — it’s a place where people come together for the love of motion. After spending this year at tracks across the country, I’ve come to appreciate just how much PIR already offers and how much more it could become. With imagination, investment, and belief, PIR can transform into a world-class hub for racing, riding, mentorship, and innovation — a place that brings Portland together again.

On Veterans Day 2025, we’re reminded that the American dream isn’t dead — it’s alive in the small few who still believe in service over self, duty over division, and sacrifice over comfort. These men and women show us what this country can be at its best, and call us to live up to the same higher ideals.

Twenty years ago, Instrument wasn’t inevitable — it was faith, stubborn belief, and courage disguised as optimism. I didn’t know it would become what it is today; I simply believed it could. That belief, paired with relentless effort and an unwillingness to compromise on integrity or ambition, turned a fragile beginning into a living legacy. And tonight isn’t about looking back to polish a trophy — it’s about honoring the privilege of watching something you once imagined grow beyond you, carried forward by new hands, new ideas, and a vision still bold enough to become more than any of us dreamed. Onward.

Portland Public Schools has committed $60 million to build the Center for Black Student Excellence — including a $16 million deal for one of the city’s most expensive office buildings. It’s a well-intentioned plan wrapped in terrible execution. If we truly want to help students, especially those long underserved, we must stop chasing optics and start demanding outcomes. Equity isn’t achieved through extravagance — it’s achieved through endurance.

Somewhere along the way, we broke the covenant that made America work. Capitalism was once the great equalizer — a ladder of effort, discipline, and reward. But greed has turned that ladder into a wall. If capitalism doesn’t remain accessible to the many, the only option left is socialism. The time has come to recalibrate — not to tear the system down, but to make it worthy of our belief again.

With President Trump threatening to deploy military forces in Portland, the temptation is to fight louder, push harder, and make sure we’re seen. But that only feeds the spectacle. The smarter path is discipline: getting our name off his tongue, going heads down, and focusing on our people. Oregon’s strength won’t come from outrage — it will come from building a self-reliant state strong enough to weather the storm until the next election.

Major General Paul E. Lefebvre, “LB6”—was the finest leader I ever knew. He was a Marine’s Marine, tactically brilliant and deeply human. He led from the field, remembered the details of his Marines’ lives, and carried himself with calm, sharp kindness. His presence set the standard I’ve tried to live up to in every chapter of my life. This is my thank you to him, and a reflection on the invisible ways great leaders leave their mark.

On a recent trip to Washington, D.C. with my boys, I was struck by how memorial after memorial seemed to hold the answers we’re still searching for today. From Jefferson’s call to liberty, to FDR’s reminder that we are bound together, to Dr. King’s dream of justice and courage—the wisdom isn’t hidden or lost. It’s all here, waiting for us to open our eyes and apply it with fresh understanding.

Charlie Kirk’s death is not just the loss of a man—it is the silencing of a voice that dared to enter the arena. Whether you agreed with him or not, his courage to keep showing up mattered. What America needs right now is not fewer voices, but more: voices willing to wrestle with hard ideas, to risk being wrong, to speak with both conviction and compassion.

What people often see is confidence that looks effortless, even too quick. What they don’t see is the work behind it—the discipline of imagining the end state, tracing the steps backward, and running hundreds of scenarios until clarity emerges. By the time I speak, the conviction is real because the hours of unseen thought have already been done. That is the responsibility of leadership: to do the hard, quiet work so others can move forward with certainty.