@rorykramer

@ross_nichols91 I met you at the marina where I was your boss, we spent our lunch breaks riding on the lake, where I taught you how to throw a pop shuv it. You were one of those friends that just simply understood me. Our creative brains worked one in the same. Whether it was my idea or yours, we always seemed to make it happen. When I went through my life sh!t, you were one of the first friends there for me. When I was in the hospital, you came to visit. When I got back from my little “vacation” you helped get me to the airport to go home. When I told you all my dark secrets, you were there to listen…never once judged me. When I needed a ride you were there to scoop me in a new custom car you recently built. And all those facetimes where you would show me cars you built, that you were trying to sell, wish we got that chance to sell one together. I will say my Lake Life series wouldn’t exist without your support. I loved getting to turn my Corolla into a convertible with you in Lake Life 2 and then I ended up putting it in an Avicii music video. Then we made another convertible out of a station wagon for my TV show. You were the kinda guy that caught wind that I was coming home and you had already planned simple moments for us to hang out. “Kramer you trying to surf later?!” Ross, you were one of the very few that not only understood me but listened to what was on my heart. There are countless stories that define our friendship but what I can say is we didn’t have a filter when it came to real talk. Thank you for being there during all the times I needed a friend. My heart breaks that I couldn’t be there for you. My dad once told me when I was buying a car, “if you don’t know anything about cars, you better have a car guy.” You were ten thousand percent that guy…just like other mechanics, you weren’t cheap but getting to support a friend was worth every oil change you did for me. “How big a engine, motor it got in it?” “Getting down in the clubs, getting busy in the streets, getting whoop whoop!” I can still hear that voice of yours asking “You got a screwdriver?!” Thank you for always being yourself. Rest In Peace.