Sin City to Salt Lake: Celebrating Modified Car Culture One Rally at a Time

Just another warm, dusty Saturday in Grantsville, Utah. Except I’m pretty sure there usually isn’t the smoke and deafening roar of James Deane’s 1200-plus-horsepower Mustang pouring into the sky. Our little posse of rallygoers approached Utah Motorsports Campus’ gate, waiting to enter the paddock as Round Seven of Formula Drift began. Canadian tuner magazine, event organizer, and television showrunners PASMAG invited us to the car show finale of its PAS365 Rally. It featured tuners, muscle cars, and Euro galore, with vintage metal, new metal, and everything in between. Everyone’s car was modified and, more importantly, conveyed a message about who the drivers are and what they’re about. 

And what is the “it” that they’re about? To their core, the same as you and I: Love and passion for cars.

With the launch of the PAS365 rallies, a series of short expeditions across North America, PASMAG begins its quest to showcase a devotion to cars, driving, and personalization through interaction and adventure. It’s their way of encouraging the community to leave their phone screens behind and get back on the road. The rallies, at least so far, act three-fold to showcase modified car culture, allow participants to experience great drives, and deliver them to spectate at premier motorsports events.

Doesn’t sound like a bad idea, right? But perhaps I shouldn’t expect less from a group whose tagline is “a celebration of modified automotive culture.” With shifts in societal norms and automotive regulations since the brand’s inception in the late 1990s, PASMAG has expanded to honor as many sub-niches as possible while still keeping a foot in its aftermarket roots—anything that makes cars and trucks go fast or, at least look fast.

“Although we started at the height of the import tuner scene, the lines have blurred over the years,” content editor and event co-organizer Adam Gordon explains. “We just love the cars, the industry, and fellow enthusiasts. PASMAG’s mission, in simple terms, is to celebrate car culture in all forms.” Nice. I’m for it. “Get out and drive,” as pro tuner Magnus Walker always says.

The rally began at K-Ways Lounge, up the road from Chinatown in Las Vegas. The organizers held a pre-meet the night before for them to greet a few of the attendees and get familiarized with the space, itself a standing tribute to JDM car culture, with walls plastered with car parts ads and pages torn from old classifieds and magazines.

Here in Vegas, there was no horde like a Gumball rally, and there were far fewer cars than the last one in New Jersey. But that didn’t seem to bother our Canadian hosts, who may have been more relieved than anything after coming from their much larger New Jersey rally, which, in fairness, was only a day’s drive from the organizers’ home turf in Toronto.

“I think I like it better this way,” Gordon quipped with a sense of ease in his voice from not being responsible for a billion cars that may or may not break along the way.

The next morning, everyone said their hellos, slapped on their minimalist rally stickers–nothing more than a tasteful door number–and filled up on prepackaged pastries and canned coffee. We made up a small crew. While many more would attend the car show at the end, we were the ones making the pilgrimage together. PASMAG’s videographer Edmund Manasan made haste in making sure their Canada-only Tuning365 television program had no shortage of footage, gathering testimonials and glamor shots of every participant.

“I hope you’re all ready to be on television because I’m going to be annoying you guys the whole weekend!” I certainly wasn’t ready to be on television. And I’m pretty sure he caught me making some stupid faces while I was by myself.

We were a diverse enough bunch. We had a tuning shop owner, a few mechanics, a professional body piercer who just so happens to also host Vegas’ late-night car shows, the event organizers, and me. Our cars were less varied, just different flavors of Subarus seasoned to serve different palates, including a wild USPS-liveried, Baja-inspired, 340-horsepower Subaru Legacy Wagon. We also had a tastefully dressed 370Z from California participant Mike Dang and a Bronzo Heritage Edition.

The rally began with a couple hours up Interstate 15, first running parallel to The Strip and eventually passing the Las Vegas Motor Speedway before vacating the valley, leaving the Stratosphere in our rear views. Interstate driving can be monotonous, we know, but the American West doesn’t leave us spoiled for choice as far as routes across state lines when major cities are several hours apart. But after this trip, I can vouch that the Vegas-to-Salt Lake City trip is far more surreal than the one from Vegas to L.A.

Flat, dreary deserts beyond the Arizona border suddenly drop into the hidden Virgin River Gorge, with the sun now sheathed behind hundreds of feet of jagged rock towering above. The interstate snaking left and right was a treat for our cars but a bit more treacherous for the 18-wheelers that still had to carry forward. Climbing out of the gorge, I realized I had left behind the bulk of the group trying to keep pace with the tuning shop owner’s Cusco WRX SEMA car.

“Dude, we lost you, man,” Dang exclaimed with a grin. “You took off! We were trying to get rolling shots of everyone through that gorge.” My bad. I guess we couldn’t help getting frisky with the throttle.

The convoy reassembled shortly before entering Saint George, Utah, spending the next couple hours between there and Cedar City, where roller shots were filmed from the Bronco and where we watched the landscape shift from beige to green with the appearance of grass and forestry. Chevy Suburbans and Tahoes on weekend excursions wafted by us with children in tow, flashing thumbs-up and smiles, especially for that good old Legacy Wagon. Soon came our chance to finally ditch the interstate for some scenic two-lanes into the nearby mountains.

Temperatures dropped. The air got thinner. My car got, slower, ugh. But the scenery was worth the detour. After the treeline began to thin out, a large sign denoted the beautiful resort town we were passing, the winter oasis of Brian Head. Devoid of life thanks to being out of season for winter sports, it made for perfect, uninterrupted cruising towards our first stop (that wasn’t for gas) at the North View turn-off.

It wouldn’t be a cruise with modified cars if there weren’t a single mechanical hiccup, yet, miraculously, only one car let us down.

His Nissan 370Z lost clutch pressure due to an exhaust header boiling the fluid in a nearby line. Thankfully, our traveling mechanic was able to pull some black magic (a plastic straw) to transfer brake fluid from the brake reservoir into his clutch reservoir. Modified cars! Hey, the big surprise was that none of the Subaru-powered cars disintegrated.

With the Z’s quick transfusion of fluid from itself complete, we headed down the road to a quick lunch at the quaint little Burger Barn in Panguitch Lake. Tim had also picked up fluid from a nearby auto parts store back in Brian Head for a proper top-off. We descended the mountains back onto flatlands and valleys where Butch Cassidy’s childhood home sat hidden in the expanses between tiny Utah towns. We had come to fully appreciate the perks of a small rally—it was hard to really lose anyone and we were a tight group of guests who didn’t have to worry about hooliganism from drivers with more ego than wit.

After hours on backcountry highways pretending to be pioneers and outlaw gangs, we rejoined the interstate for one last push into Salt Lake City. Garage Grill served up dinner under retired F1 cars, Le Mans prototypes, and an, ahem,  Saleen-freaking-S7! Can you tell it’s probably the raddest burger joint in the world?

Our hosts toasted to a successful drive and awarded some pretty lofty gifts to winners of a couple of games we had played throughout the day. The poker winner, owner of the USPS Legacy Wagon, won a set of custom Rotiform wheels, and the winner of a social media posting challenge, the professional piercer, won an entire turbo kit for his Scion FR-S. Talk about a grand prize. We downed our burgs and brews before catching well-earned Zs for the big day at Utah Motorsports Campus.

Morning found me meandering around the paddock amongst Formula Drift’s finest while more cars rolled in for PASMAG’s Tuning 365 show. The sport’s best talent took to the course for practice, ready to carve the Top 32 down tournament-style to 16, 8, 4, then the Final 2. The crowds applauded for their favorite personalities, their chants occasionally broken by the sounds of gravel kicked up on a botched run, shotgunning the barriers, plus the announcers’ call, “THERE’S CONTACT,” as fenders bashed.

Our hosts set up their booth, eager to greet arriving drivers and artisans who came to show off their four-wheeled avatars. Unfamiliar with the brand until now, I approach CEO and co-organizer Tim Rutledge about PASMAG’s goals and his opinions on the current landscape of car culture.

“It’s been what it’s always been, by enthusiasts for enthusiasts,” Rutledge proclaims. “Cars have always been one of the best canvases for one to truly express oneself as an extension of their personality. Whether they want to go fast or look fast, we offer a look into that. We’ve been at this for 25 years now. We’ve seen how much the culture has changed. We’re really out here to remind people to drive their cars. That’s what they’re for, aren’t they? What’s the point of having them and building them if you don’t drive them?”

Rutledge’s sentiment seems to have permeated the air everywhere we went, as suggested by much of the ordinary traffic we encountered.

Phones crept up in car windows. One traveler at a gas station was keen to ask about the USPS Baja Legacy. Another at a separate gas station had the biggest grin as he helped his dad load side-by-sides on their trailer. “I LOVE IT,” he yelled to us from the other side of the gas pump. A college kid in downtown Salt Lake stuck a point-an-shoot out of his BMW 3-Series to get a shot of my BRZ. Another resident, having just departed a lowrider meet, glanced over and gave a firm nod as we climbed the hill towards the capitol building, two cars a world apart, sharing in respect amongst owners. 

I’m often a recluse and put off by such attention, but it was a pleasant reminder that Rutledge’s efforts and those of other cultural harbingers aren’t in vain. Ordinary people still enjoy the whimsy of modified car and they do see the value and creativity behind every canvas. At least when they’re not rev-bombing neighborhoods at midnight or committing malicious acts for Instagram fame. People didn’t see us as nuisances but as expressions, the same as we see any kind of car, whether it be a lovingly restored ‘67 Mustang barn find or a purpose-built track weapon of a 911 GT3. Our cars told a story about us, and it felt that ordinary people got that, at least for this weekend. 

I ask Rutledge and his crew how we convey that message to this new generation who seem to have fallen out of love with driving or no longer see it as a freedom and now see it as more unnecessary or as a chore. They responded with a bit of uncertainty yet with a strong sense of duty to these future generations.

“Ha! It’s the same story with you! Even your kid doesn’t want to get his license,” Dang lightheartedly pokes at Rutledge, to which he hardly has a rebuttal and for understandable and well-documented reasons.

“It’s hard these days. Kids have it easy with trains or Uber.” 

“Sorry to get all old man and ‘back-in-my-day’ on you, but to us, cars were the ultimate freedom. We just need to remind them that it still can be. Bring them out to things like this.”

Gordon greets my last question with the most vigor. “I think the key to appealing to a younger generation that isn’t as drawn to cars through pop-culture is simply showing them how fun it can be. Events, fun content, education, and just being good ambassadors for our community can go a long way.” Easier said than done, totally, but it’s safe to say the crew has it in the bag.

By evening, many of the rallygoers depart, either to get an early start to the long drive home or to prepare for a night in Salt Lake’s small but vibrant downtown. I’m left with time to ponder the trials PASMAG and other entities like it face. Admittedly, it’s tough to think when Formula Drift is damn good at drawing you in—seeing Aurimas “Odi” Bakchis unseat James Deane and Fredric Aasbo to take the win is a new core memory and one hell of a distraction.

Rutledge and Gordon’s crew, like many other media brands and event-organizing groups, are met with this double-edged challenge of satisfying current enthusiasts while inviting new faces along. But they’ve made a great case for their methods of fostering the community, modified or otherwise. Adapting to a changing world by growing its social media presence and television series while hosting these events with the utmost hospitality and inclusivity is a solid start to a promising future for car enthusiasts as a whole. It seems like the best thing all of us can do: to celebrate the culture with open minds and open arms.