As far back as I can remember, my dad, Jon Nelson, was always a fabricator. No matter what wild idea I came up with, he found a way to make it real—whether it was a custom bike rack for our mountain bike races or a simple wall mount for a TV. His designs were never what I imagined. They were always… different. At the time, I didn’t understand it, but those “different” ideas were his genius at work. He saw things through a lens most people didn’t—and I wasn’t the only one who noticed.

He got his start fabricating at a young age under Walker Evans and eventually struck out on his own, working under the Chevy Thunder umbrella. Somewhere along the way, he built what became the world’s first mid-engine Trophy Truck—a truck that would go on to win three consecutive Baja 1000s with Larry Ragland behind the wheel. I was still a kid in the '90s when all this was happening, unaware that my dad was rewriting off-road history in real time.

By 2002, a new chapter began—this time in the world of rock crawling. We stumbled across a rock crawling competition in Johnson Valley, California, and something clicked. That same year, Tiny was born. When my dad built Tiny, it was the first competition vehicle I got to see him create from the ground up. I didn’t fully understand what I was witnessing—I just thought it was loud, awesome, and that my dad was doing something that felt bigger than life. Now, over two decades later, I realize I had a front-row seat to a pivotal moment in off-road innovation.

Tiny wasn’t just another rock crawler—it was revolutionary. My dad’s vision, his unorthodox approach to design, and his next-level fabrication skills helped shape the future of competitive rock crawling. Tiny introduced concepts that were unheard of at the time: a lightweight tube chassis, a mid-engine layout with the motor behind the driver, and a compact footprint designed for agility. It was the birth of what people would later call the “Moon Buggy,” and its influence is still visible today. Most competition crawlers now—20+ years later—still follow that same
blueprint. Only with time and perspective have I come to understand the significance of what he built. He didn’t just create a vehicle—he changed the game. And I got to watch it happen in real time.

Then, just one year later, he did it again. After a wildly successful 2003 season—multiple event wins, championships, and a Supercrawl
title—my dad unveiled Scrapper. It was his one-up to all the Tiny copycats that had popped up after the Tiny reckoning. Scrapper pushed things even further: a 140-pound chassis, air shocks instead of coilovers, titanium hardware, and a total weight that came in hundreds of pounds below the class minimum. It was overbuilt, underweight, and unapologetically ahead of its time.

My dad once told me it was the one rig he wouldn’t have changed a single thing about.
Being the pilot this time around, he placed in the Top 5 at multiple events and taking home a winin 2004.

When all was said and done, Tiny and Scrapper didn’t just dominate—they redefined what competitive rock crawlers could be. They raised the bar. And looking back now, I realize how rare it is to witness something truly groundbreaking—and this is why I am nominating him for the 2025 Rock Motorsports Hall of Fame.

Thank you,

Kyle Nelson
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