Fifteen years ago, if you told me I’d make a living photographing some of the rarest cars on the planet, I would’ve called you delusional. Back then I was stuck in an office, staring at a screen, wondering what the next move was — or if there even was one. I couldn’t see the road ahead. I definitely couldn’t see this. Now I chase light for a living. This film came out of a 4,000-mile run through the West — from Montrose to Salt Lake City, down to Phoenix, over to Albuquerque, and everywhere in between. Nine cars. Thousands of miles. Snow, salt, desert, and everything the map didn’t warn me about. The assignment was simple: shoot nine cars on the road. The mission was personal: make every mile count. I’m convinced that with a Jeep on 35s and onX, you can quite literally go anywhere. The West just hits different. I’ve driven the Million Dollar Highway more times than I can count — but never in a blizzard. White-knuckled and grinning, I was grateful for a sure-footed Rubicon. Truthfully, I wouldn’t want to be up there in anything else. In one week, I watched the sun set in some of the most iconic landscapes in America — the kind of views that force you to pause and remind yourself this is real life. I’d been to the Salt Flats before, but never without a schedule, never just to stand still. This time, I lingered. Hours passed in silence, surrounded by nothing but sky and salt. It felt infinite. I wrapped the trip outside Phoenix, chasing desert sunsets through the hills. Giant saguaro silhouettes stretched across pink and amber skies, the light shifting by the second — like a painting reworking itself in real time.