Origin Story
There’s a man who just got home from the hospital.
Baby in his arms. Hasn’t slept. No idea what he just signed up for.
I know what that man is feeling. I’ve never stopped.
Then one morning my oldest walked into my closet barefoot and came out wearing my shoes.
Size eleven. Perfect fit.
Two years of high school left. And I realized I hadn’t built anything with him yet.
Not a car. Not a memory. Nothing he’d carry.
My wife saw it before I did – the way she always does.
Get them off the screens by giving them something worth building.
A brand. Our brand. One they might call their own long after I’m gone.
We sat down as a family. The boys went first.
One suggested a Rhino because of my wrinkles.
Another compared the horn to my nose.
A third pointed out that Rhinos sprint in short bursts—like a racecar.
And finally, Rhinos can’t see well, just like someone who wears thick glasses.
There was a pause—the kind where a joke becomes truth – Blind Rhino.
We needed a logo
So my youngest—our artist—sketched a rhino with broken lines and uneven curves. Imperfect. Human. Exactly what it needed to be. We refined it, but kept its soul.
Simple lines became identity—the way every family story should.
Blind Rhino grew from there.
Helmets instead of faces.
Stories instead of selfies.
The car was never the story. It was the vehicle.
The real story is the time in between. The hours. The frames. The laps.
The boys who didn’t ask for any of this – and now won’t stop showing up for it.
