On a cloudy New Jersey afternoon, Brian Mabutas is outside as a little drizzle beads off the light asphalt. He is detailing his Dodge Viper, a covert, stripe-free model mounted on oversized drag radials.


Do you like the short story or the lengthy one? Brian queries. The in-depth tale, which starts with a young boy who lived close to a drag strip, wore big graphic t-shirts, and learned HTML on a family member’s laptop or computer, is well worth your time.

The motorsports apparel brand name Consume Slumber Race, which is intended with the aptitude of hip-hop stylings, was founded by Brian. He also serves as its Creative Director. He started it 21 years ago, as a senior in high school, just to combine his interests in fashion, graphic design, and cars into one creative outlet.

“I don’t know if this is common in many other cultures, but it just so happens to be in the Filipino tradition,” Brian quips. My father and many of my relatives all enjoy working on their own cars. Every residence we visited had an excellent toolset. A large, family-approved toolbox and a lift where Brian can perform oil changes on his Viper and his treasured Honda, a 1991 CRX with a full roll cage and carbon hood, are both within his garage. The first engine oil created for motorsports, Valvoline VR1, which is preferred by many enthusiasts to keep their sports cars operating at their best, is on the workbench.

In order to put a bottle of Valvoline on the sizable red manifold, Brian opens the hood of the Viper. His engine room is as spotless as Kyle Larson’s NASCAR garage. It’s a stunning piece of art, and to keep the Viper running on all 10 cylinders, the Viper needs 11 quarts of Valvoline’s European Automobile Comprehensive Artificial. Because Valvoline is Hendrick Motorsports’ approved engine oil, every lesson learned on the track is accurately reflected in the oil Brian is using right now. Valvoline has been in business for more than 150 years with the goal of maximising engine life. It might be the only motor oil with a dedicated motor lab that gives professionals the freedom to create and push the boundaries of functioning.

When Brian visited his extended family, they would frequently be spending the majority of their time in the garage fixing their cars and digging through fully-stocked toolboxes—a DIY mentality Brian attributes to his Filipino relatives. In the early days of digital image editing, his mother got him the first version of Photoshop. Brian, who does not typically use prefabricated themes, quickly taught himself how to code and started building websites. But if he hadn’t tagged along with his older brother Francis, these precious early experiences might not have coincided with a real sight or a successful global small business.

Brian said, “My mum wanted him to take me wherever he went.”

Francis, then 16, followed her instructions. He would force Brian to drive his Honda Civic down the driveway at midnight, get in at the end of the road, and then they would flee and meet up with auto aficionados in the deserted commercial sections of New Jersey.

He asserts that “there wasn’t a brand that catered to vehicles and streetwear.” I thought, “Why won’t I make shirts that combine the two?”

When The Fast and the Furious was released in 2001, Brian was living the Hollywood dream as sanctioned races for highly modified Japanese cars and import-car culture gained popularity. Leo, a close friend of his brother’s, drove a modified Honda Civic, which quickly became the only car he wanted to get into. He was made an honorary member of Leo’s racing team, and before long, the young high school student without a driver’s licence had a daring schedule. He would create a website and the team’s logo. After quickly creating a layout, Brian searched the Yellow Pages for a monitor printer. Now, after working with Leo, he would open the trunk at appropriate times and sell shirts for $10 each.

Brian explains, “I needed to experience component of the group because I didn’t have a vehicle. “I started making clothes with this.”

The Viper is illuminated by the warm warmth of daylight. In order to remove the “stigma” that has created divisions among automotive enthusiasts, Brian’s vehicle combines import style and design with an American chassis. His Viper brings people together, especially his 2-year-old son Makoa who loves “Daddy’s race car.” Together, they observe drag strips as the vehicles zoom down quarter-miles while wearing earmuffs bearing the Take in Rest Race logo. The ABCs for Future Race Car Drivers, for example, is part of a new line of children’s clothing and board books that Brian is now creating to fill a gap in the motorsports canon.

Not only is it influencing children’s future technologies, but it is also fostering parent-child relationships, according to the author. “My brother and I would be in the garage with my father on the weekends when he was working on a car and changing his oil. I can do that now with my son.

All of this tends to make Brian’s plan for the next age rather obvious and intentional. He is teaching young people who will never experience what it feels like to roll a Honda with a manual gearbox down a driveway about cars, clothes and architecture. His self-built company and unrelenting drive are encouraging young people to consider motorsports and vehicle maintenance as important careers. No matter how the automotive landscape changes, Brian wants his kid to inherit his successes.