The world’s first out gay go-kart racing champion is transforming the culture of motorsports in rural Ohio and beyond

Down a two-lane gravel road – winged by rolling farmland – a red ATV rounds a sharp curve, kicking up a cloud of dirt in its path.

Beyond the treeline, a series of low foothills unfold before a stark blue sky.

In this rural swath of Tuscarawas county, the rainbow Pride flag above the racetrack at Adkins Speed Center is the only sign of LGBTQ+ life for miles.

The county is a politically conservative stronghold, voting 70% Republican in the last presidential election, but that doesn’t bother 39-year-old Brandon Adkins.

Adkins – who owns and operates the track with his husband, Jamie Wince – is the world’s first and only out gay national go-kart racing champion, and the sole heir to a family karting legacy spanning more than 50 years and four generations.

From the time his feet could reach the pedals, Adkins has raced karts like his father before him, appearing in dozens of junior and senior championship races across the country.

But for the majority of his karting career, Adkins remained closeted, due in part to motorsports’ overwhelming straight, cisgender “hyper-masculine” culture.

Now, he and Wince hope to change the culture of the sport by operating the family business as an out gay couple, coaching and developing drivers under one resounding conviction: “Everybody who wants to race deserves a place on the track.”

The family business

During the summer of 1956, veteran race car builder Art Ingels built the first go-kart in Southern California. 

Within a year, go-kart racing had become the most popular and affordable way for Americans to access motorsports, with karting tracks cropping up in cities and towns across the country.

Adkins’ father – legendary kart driver and engine builder Kyle “California Flash” Adkins – built a name for himself in the karting industry alongside his brother, Tony, and father, Bill, in the 1970s.

In online karting forums, dozens of current and former racers count the Southern California-based trio among the greatest go-kart drivers and engine builders of all time.

In 1982, Adkins’ father purchased the Port Washington property, relocating to rural northeast Ohio and raising his only son on the hill overlooking the racetrack.

“It was just expected,” he said, leaning against a work table inside Adkins Speed Center’s full-service mechanic shop. “It would have been a big deal in my family if I didn’t race.”

By the time he was a teenager, Adkins had grown into the family legacy, even placing third in Phase 2 of the 2003 Red Bull Driver Search – beating out at least 30 other racers to make the podium.

By then, Adkins also knew he was gay, and wrestled with the overwelming repercussions of coming out.

“I definitely knew, but you have to tell yourself you’re not,” he said. “You can almost convince yourself you’re not, and I did that to the point that I got married and had kids. Eventually, I couldn’t do it anymore. I just got too curious.”

At 29, Adkins and his ex-wife divorced. He came out as gay and met Wince a few years later while living briefly out-of-state. 

Quickly, their relationship turned serious.

When Adkins’ father died unexpectedly in 2017, the couple took over the business themselves, marking a new and innovative era for the track.

Facing anti-LGBTQ+ stigma

Today, Adkins and Wince live in a split-level home built on the same spot Adkins was born and raised, operating the family business as an out gay couple.

They also co-parent Adkins’ 10 and 13-year-olds – both of whom race karts like their father, grandfather and great-grandfather before them.

Adkins coaches and competes as an out gay man on the same track his father purchased more than 40 years ago, but breaking social norms, particularly within motorsports, hasn’t come without a cost.

Despite an impressive track record, Adkins and Wince still face stigma, discrimination and a daunting lack of representation both within the karting industry and in motorsports culture as a whole.

Prior to his death, Adkins’ father secured several regional sponsorships to help fund a new team of drivers and a batch of much-needed repairs to the track and facilities on the property.

But after word spread in the industry that Adkins and Wince would run the track and shop together, Adkins said sponsors fell away or rescinded offers directly.

“Before my dad died, people were so willing to help with the track, financially and otherwise. Now it’s like we have to beg for anything,” he added. “Even just for people to come around.”

“ – and that’s fine,” Wince immediately added. “Because we’re doing it with or without them.”

Re-imaging the racetrack

For the last six seasons, the couple have been coaching and developing a team of drivers ranging from middle school to middle-aged that compete under the Adkins team name in go-kart races across the country.

From early spring until late fall, they also maintain a small fleet of rental karts available by the race or by the hour, in addition to hosting multi-day racing events and welcoming new and experienced drivers to test and practice at the track.

“After a few seasons, we realized we were really going to have to pivot and adapt,” Adkins said. “As a mechanic shop, we offer everything you could need for karting. But we really choose to focus on coaching and driver development as a person grows.”

“We want people to know that this is a safe place for everybody to enjoy the sport, but especially for new drivers to come and learn,” he added. “There’s not a lot of diversity in karting, and we want to change that.”

Currently, there are no out LGBTQ+ drivers competing at the national or international levels in motorsports anywhere in the world. Kart racing is also an industry dominated by white men, with very few women, girls and people of color competing at any level.

In the United States, karters can begin competing at age 8, but often begin driving even younger in Europe and the United Kingdom, where karters are groomed to compete on the elite Formula One (F1) racing circuit.

Dozens of F1 drivers –  including Max Verstappen, Michael Schumacher and seven-time world champion Lewis Hamilton – started their careers racing karts, and there are often valuable sponsorships and prize winnings at stake for drivers who place well at the national or international levels.

But for Adkins and Wince, winning championships isn’t always the goal.

“Doing this builds so much confidence, and a lot of responsibility, no matter how old you are,” Wince explained. “When they’re out there, they’re going fast as hell and they have to be responsible for themselves and their own safety. We can’t be out there with them.”

“It’s not always about being the best or the fastest driver on the track,” he said. “It’s about putting in the work and having that support and knowing you have a place on the track, no matter what anyone else says.”

Building a new legacy

“When I was growing up, I would always come up here to think,” Adkins said, walking the edge of the track’s crowning jewel: a rare Monza-style curve with nearly 30 degrees of banking.

“It’s kind of my spot,” he added. “I love it because you can see the whole track.”

A few hundred yards away, a neighbor’s brown cow grazes at the foot of a wire fence.

Adkins tucks his hands into the pockets of his black and green hoodie.

In 2019, he made a triumphant return to racing when he took first place at the United States Auto Club (UASC) Karting’s 2019 Battle of the Brickyard, this time with Wince by his side to celebrate the victory.

“I still love racing,” he says, squinting in the harsh spring sun. “I love it so much I want to do it all the time – but if I do it all the time, I don’t want to do it at all. It’s definitely a complicated, love-hate type of thing.”

This season, he and Wince are focused on building stronger relationships within LGBTQ+ communities across Ohio, along with attracting sponsorships and other funding opportunities that better align with their values and mission as an LGBTQ+ business.

Above all else, the pair are invested in the future of the sport, and in supporting drivers that don’t necessarily fit the mold fashioned by the sport’s originators.

“This sport is for everybody,” Wince said, fiddling with the black wedding ring on his left hand. “Even if your kid wants to race and you’re an LGBTQ+ parent, this is the place for you.”

“You know you’re going to show up here and it’s going to be safe to come practice and support your kid,” Wince added. “Anybody who wants to race has a right to be on that track, and here, we actually have a chance to make that the reality.”

Behind him, Adkins leans over a mechanic’s table, smiling at the thought of finally building a legacy on his own terms.