How the first pin happened

People keep asking—or they will, so let’s get ahead of it—how does a road journal have seven stops before the rig’s even been bought?

Fair question. Here’s the honest answer, starting with the first pin.

The Melted State is a raclette outfit out my way—melted cheese scraped right off the wheel, the kind of food you smell before you see. It’s run by Tomek, a friend of a friend.

I build websites for a living. His didn’t do him justice. So one night, I just built him one off the rip—didn’t ask, didn’t pitch, no invoice, no strings. I cold-messaged him something like, “Hey man, I made this for you. Take a look. Keep it or trash it.”

That’s the whole sales strategy. There isn’t one.

He looked. He liked it. Next thing you know, I’m building the real thing—his site, his name on it, done right.

And here’s the part that matters to me: when it’s finished, I hand him the reins. His hosting, his accounts, his keys. I’m not renting a man his own website. I build it, teach him how to drive it, and roll on.

That’s what these seven shakeout stops are: practice reps close to home before the wheels start rolling. I walk in as a customer, write an honest review, and when a great place has a website holding it back, I build them a better one for free.

Some stops just get the review. Some get told their site is already dialed in. The review is never for sale either way.

I’ve got a few more of these close-to-home stories coming—hometown spots that deserve the spotlight. Then comes the rig, and the map starts earning pins the long way.

If you own a place and you’re wondering whether I’d do that for you: maybe.

Be great at what you do. That’s the filter.