Clutsh: A Startup's Ambitious Road Trip

The STi along the route day 1 - in Newnan Georgia

Every car person has the same dream: the ultimate, no-holds-barred, cross-country road trip. This summer, we decided to stop dreaming about it and just do it.

The usual way this is done is you grab your credit card and go rent a boring, reliable crossover and cover miles effortlessly in a car you don’t care about at the end of the day. No worrying about breaking down, or the miles you are racking up, or where you are parking it in the hotel parking lot. To be clear, that is the correct way to do a trip like this. It's the sane way. Car people are not accused of being sane too often, so our trip looked different.

Our plan was to point our 2021 Subaru WRX STi west and don't stop until we hit the Pacific, then turn around and come home. It was meant to be a trip of a lifetime, a chance to live the car dream. The STi is known for being an enthusiast car with a stiff ride, an engine that is inefficient and somewhat brittle, and consumables that all come with the STi tax, so this car was obviously the insane option for us.

But as it turns out, when you spend three weeks and 8,200 miles on the road, reality has a way of showing up. And along for the ride was Clutsh, our project to make car ownership suck less. The trip, in all its incredible and frustrating glory, couldn't help but show us why our mission matters.

The Honeymoon Phase (Which Lasted About 500 Miles)

〰️

The Honeymoon Phase (Which Lasted About 500 Miles) 〰️

Leaving Charlotte on May 26th felt like a launch. The STi, fresh off a detail and sitting on a brand-new set of Continental ExtremeContact Sport 02 tires, had that "first day of school" energy. The first leg was deceptively smooth. We stopped at the USS Alabama in Mobile, a massive, imposing battleship that made our car look like a Hot Wheels car. Everything was going perfectly. Too perfectly. The car was just waiting for its moment to be a diva.

STi parked in front of the USS Alabama at dusk

STi parked as close to the USS Alabama as we could get .. the park was closed.

The Inevitable First Dose of Reality

〰️

The Inevitable First Dose of Reality 〰️

The diva moment arrived as we were leaving town. The STi’s notoriously sensitive TPMS light flickered on. Of course it did.

My first thought wasn’t panic, it was just an exhausted, “Oh, here we go.” This sensor has the emotional stability of a toddler, crying wolf whenever the temperature changes. But this felt different. We pulled over. The first walk around the car indicated the sensor was just doing what it does best which is lie. We went back to the hotel to rest, and in the morning we were greeted with a flat rear-left. A fat, ugly bolt was sunk deep into the tread of the brand-new rear driver-side tire. The universe has a fantastic sense of humor.

This is it. This is the moment every car person on a trip dreads. You’re in a city you don’t know, your schedule is shot, and you have to play "Google Maps Roulette" with your expensive, brittle enthusiast car. You scroll through a sea of options, praying you don't pick the one shop that lets their new guy learn how to use a floor jack on your side skirts. This whole gamble is a core "why" behind Clutsh.

We took a spin and landed on a Pep Boys that could get us in. The team was solid—no upselling, no drama, just a patch and a quick "good luck." It was a massive relief, but it drove home the point: a trustworthy connection isn't a luxury, it's a necessity. This stop going well was the difference between making it to New Orleans or not, and because they were fast we made it to Bourbon street as planned.

Gumbo, Gators, and Spontaneous Weight Reduction

〰️

Gumbo, Gators, and Spontaneous Weight Reduction 〰️

With the tire holding air again, we dove headfirst into New Orleans. We did the full tourist spread: Bourbon Street, the French Quarter, and a culinary tour that probably clogged a few arteries. Our lifeline through it all was a steady supply of High Brew Coffee (pro tip: the Mexican Vanilla is the GOAT). We left NOLA via the 24-mile Lake Pontchartrain Causeway just as a biblical thunderstorm decided to chase us out of town.

The drive through Texas was a brutal, rain-lashed slog. Somewhere in the deluge, the state of Texas decided our car was a little too heavy. We pulled over for gas to find a gaping hole below the passenger headlight. A piece of the front bumper trim had spontaneously ejected. The STi now had a "missing tooth," a battle scar it would wear for the rest of the journey. We just chalked it up to performance-enhancing weight reduction.

Texas Two-Step: History, Art, and Another Headache

〰️

Texas Two-Step: History, Art, and Another Headache 〰️

Our first major stop was San Antonio. You can't drive through without seeing the Alamo. It’s smaller than you imagine, and the hyper-touristy chaos of downtown San Antonio is literally built right up to its walls, but standing in the old chapel, you still feel the weight of the history. After that quick dose of Texas history, we pushed west.

The goal was Marfa. Or, more specifically, a single art installation in the middle of nowhere. We arrived at Prada Marfa right as the sun was setting. It's surreal. A fully stocked (but permanently locked) Prada store on the side of a desolate highway, with nothing but desert for miles. The silence is deafening. We got some absolutely epic shots of the STi against the desert sunset and the bizarre luxury storefront. It felt like a scene from a movie.

The movie came to a screeching halt in El Paso, where another routine ownership headache popped up: it was time for an oil change. Cue another round of "mechanic near me" roulette. Finding a quality shop you can trust with your turbocharged, slightly-brittle engine in a city you've never been in is a unique kind of stress that really grinds a trip's momentum to a halt.

In this case we went with the only Subaru dealership north of the border for something like 200 miles. Subaru of El Paso found some additional things that needed done on the car, including a seal on the front-right drive axel, but we could not stop the trip or wait for parts so we put that on hold. The other thing we were hoping to find is the missing trim piece, but they had none in stock and we couldn’t wait for shipping so the missing tooth remained for the whole trip.

Washboard Roads and a Sea of Sand

〰️

Washboard Roads and a Sea of Sand 〰️

With the oil changed and the leaky axle seal logged for later, we headed north out of El Paso and drove straight onto another planet. Our first stop was White Sands National Park. It’s wild. The name is exactly what’s on the tin: a massive, 275-square-mile field of brilliant white dunes in the middle of the desert.

What’s crazy is that it’s not regular sand. It’s gypsum, a soft mineral that dissolves in water. Usually, it would just wash away to the sea, but because this area is a closed basin, it’s been collecting here for thousands of years. The result is an endless sea of white. We got some awesome photos, but it’s hard to capture how vast it is. The sand is fine and surprisingly cool to the touch, but a real workout to walk on. We saw families sledding down the dunes on waxed-up saucers, which looked like a blast.

Of course, getting to the good sights meant driving on the park’s roads, which were rough, washboarded messes. Once again, the STi’s stiff suspension was the perfectly insane choice, rattling our teeth as we ventured into the heart of the dunes. It was absolutely worth it.

Breaking Bad and Awkward Encounters

〰️

Breaking Bad and Awkward Encounters 〰️

Originally, the plan from here was to take the legendary Coronado Trail into Arizona. It's a bucket-list road for any driving enthusiast. But, in another classic road trip moment, we learned there was a fire in the area and the route was closed. Plan B was a more direct shot through Albuquerque. And if you're a fan of a certain TV show and you're in ABQ, you have to make the pilgrimage.

We rolled up to the address of Walter White's house. And the owners were just... there. Sitting in lawn chairs on the driveway, waiting. They've clearly accepted their fate but they also hated everyone that loves the show. They've seen thousands of tourists like us, and their expressions showed a mixture of resignation and amusement. It was deeply, deeply awkward. When we parked up, they got out of their lawn chairs and pulled out their phones to snap photos of us. We have read stories online of them telling others that stop that we are losers for fanning over an older show, but I am not going to be in ABQ and not take my photo. We snapped a quick, cringey photo from a respectable distance and got out of there before we overstayed our non-existent welcome.

You can tell by the car in the driveway with the hatch open, the fence, the cones, the flags, and the people taking photos of me in the background they LOVE having visitors. I don’t mean to bother anyone, but .. come on. It’s THE house.

Canyons, Concrete, and a Brush with Heatstroke

〰️

Canyons, Concrete, and a Brush with Heatstroke 〰️

Leaving the awkwardness of Albuquerque behind, we headed for one of the planet's biggest holes: the Grand Canyon. It's epic, but it's almost too vast to comprehend. You stand at the edge and your brain can't quite process the scale. It's humbling, and the photos, while great, don't do it justice.

From there, we pointed the car toward Vegas, which meant a drive to the Hoover Dam on US-93. This is where choosing the STi went from a fun quirk to active self-punishment. The road is in terrible shape, and we felt every single crack and pothole directly in our spines. A sane person in a rented crossover would have been fine. We were getting beat to death.

And then there was the heat. The STi’s dash readout climbed to a terrifying 112 degrees. When we stopped at the dam, the air outside was 109. It was the first time I’ve ever experienced truly dangerous heat. It’s deceptive—the lack of humidity tricks you for a bit, and then you suddenly cross a line walking to the car where your body just wants to shut down. It was unbelievable.

The dam itself, however, is a marvel. It's a profound reminder of what humans are capable of on a grand scale. Seeing it in person, especially after surviving the drive, was worth it.

So, a quick public apology to the Hoover Dam security guard who asked if I had a drone. I said "no." This was, technically, a lie. But in my defense, your "No Drone Zone" signs are very large and I had absolutely no intention of flying it. Please forgive me.

Finally, Vegas

〰️

Finally, Vegas 〰️

After the soul-rattling drive and near-heatstroke experience, rolling into the air-conditioned, artificial world of Las Vegas felt like landing on another planet. We checked into the MGM Grand, feeling like we’d just crawled out of the desert. We ate at a Wolfgang Puck restaurant, won $80 on a dragon-themed slot machine, and then promptly sacrificed our winnings to a car-themed one. As we were leaving, we saw an older man wheeling his suitcase through the casino floor completely barefoot. Ryan, who had never been, wondered aloud about the dress code. We realized then that there isn't one. As long as you have money to lose, you can come as you are, and no one will say a thing. A fitting final lesson from Sin City.

The first major leg was done. We were living the dream—the insane way.

Timelapse Video

〰️

Timelapse Video 〰️

Next Up: Part 2 - We visit a famous zoo, challenge the Pacific Coast Highway, and get properly humbled by some very, very large trees.

Previous
Previous

Our 8,200-Mile Trip, Part 2: PCH, Redwoods, and an F1

Next
Next

Press Clutsh to start.