AS SEEN IN OUR C10 Builders Guide Winter 2026 ISSUE – Buy Now!
THE RIGHT FOUNDATION

There comes a point in life when the project build stops being about horsepower, slammed stance, or who notices it when you roll into a show. Somewhere along the way, it becomes about something a whole lot more important. Lately, I’ve found the “itch” again, and my boy has motivated me to get back to it! We started collecting parts awhile back, and it’s about to get real.

This one isn’t getting built for a deadline, it isn’t for chasing trophies, and it isn’t trying to be a game-changer or to “break the internet.” This one is getting built with my son. If you’ve been around this hobby long enough, you’ve probably seen or experienced every kind of build imaginable. The overnight thrash before a show, the “I’ll finish it over the winter” project that somehow takes five more winters. The “budget” build that somehow costs more than the “expensive” one.

But this one feels different; it’s intentionally slow. Starting with the right foundation with your build (and your life) is the only way to go, so what better way to kick off a proper C10 project build than with a GSI chassis? Beautiful craftsmanship, incredible engineering, and the kind of attention to detail that deserves to be appreciated before the body ever gets dropped on top of it. It’s the type of chassis you almost hate to cover up because every weld and part tells a story.

From there, we’re adding components that have earned their leading reputation in this industry. Wilwood disc brakes because confidence matters just as much as stopping power, a Currie Enterprises rear end, and of course, every proper chassis build deserves the right rollers, so teaming up with U.S. Mags and Toyo tires is the way to go. The complete Air Lift Performance suspension provides the perfect slammed stance, and let’s be honest, air suspension isn’t just my professional focus—it’s been a huge part of my life for decades. I’ve watched the technology evolve from something people questioned into something that’s become the benchmark for performance and drivability.

But here’s the thing. None of those parts are actually the point; they’re just the excuse. The real project is happening between the frame rails and the toolbox. Every Saturday morning, evenings after dinner, every “hold this wrench,” every mistake we’ll make together, and every lesson neither of us knows we’re learning in the moment. We’ll be learning patience and being ok with walking away frustrated and coming back tomorrow with a clearer head. Those lessons don’t come from YouTube. They come from time and experience.

The world moves much faster these days, and everything is instant. Parts seem to show up tomorrow, videos are sixty seconds long, and everyone wants the finished reveal before they’ve even unpacked the first box. But I’m perfectly okay if this truck takes years. Honestly, I hope it does, because every extra month means another opportunity to spend time together with my son, doing what we love—TOGETHER.

Another conversation while we’re routing brake lines, another laugh after installing something backwards, and another memory created while figuring out why something doesn’t fit quite the way we expected. Years from now, I won’t remember exactly how many hours we spent aligning suspension components or torquing hardware.

I’ll remember hearing Linc ask questions. I’ll remember watching his confidence grow every time he figured something out without asking for help. And I’ll remember the first time he aired the truck out under its own power and couldn’t stop smiling. Those moments are worth more than any trophy sitting on a shelf.

I’ve spent enough time in this industry to realize the vehicles eventually become secondary because it’s ALL about the people. We’ve all lost friends whose trucks still get talked about at shows. We’ve all walked through event parking lots and heard someone say, “Man…I remember when he built this.” The vehicles become storytellers about the people that passed the torch.

Someday these will be the memories he shares with his son or daughter because we’re not just building a truck together; we’re building a life. And maybe one day he’ll be looking at another bare chassis in his garage with his kids, smiling as he remembers where it all started. Funny how a pile of steel can become a family heirloom before the first mile is ever driven.

That’s the beauty of this hobby. We’re not just building trucks. Sometimes we’re building the people who will someday build the next one and keep this industry alive for generations to come. For a more in-depth look at the start of this build, check out the spread in this issue with the vision of where we’re headed. Until next time, keep on truckin’!