Cleetus McFarland, the YouTube sensation known for his wild automotive antics, has done what many thought impossible: earned the respect of NASCAR’s most seasoned veterans. Garrett Mitchell, the man behind the Cleetus persona, didn’t follow the conventional path to the racetrack. No karting championships, no family legacy in stock car racing, no silver spoon dipped in motor oil. Instead, he built a multimillion-subscriber empire on burnout videos, drag racing, and a relentless passion for all things fast. When he announced his pivot to professional racing, skeptics scoffed. Another influencer chasing clout on the track? The NASCAR world wasn’t ready for what came next.
Mitchell’s journey began with a simple love for cars, shared with millions through his YouTube channel. His Florida-based events, packed with monster trucks, jet-powered boats, and screaming V8s, drew fans who adored his unpolished charisma. But beneath the mullet and the mayhem, there was a calculated drive. Mitchell wasn’t just playing for views; he was studying the craft of racing, learning from every tire squeal and every crash. His entry into the ARCA Menards Series, a stepping stone to NASCAR, wasn’t a publicity stunt—it was a bold declaration of intent.
At Daytona, the hallowed ground of stock car racing, Mitchell faced his first real test. The ARCA season opener is no place for amateurs, yet he held his own, navigating high-speed drafts and avoiding chaos until a crash ended his day. “I should’ve zigged instead of zagged,” he quipped afterward, his humor masking a steely resolve. That crash wasn’t a failure; it was a lesson. By Talladega, he was back, posting a top-10 finish that silenced doubters. NASCAR veteran Max Papis, who mentored Mitchell, couldn’t hide his admiration. “He’s a badass race car driver who fakes being a YouTuber,” Papis said, flipping the narrative on its head. This wasn’t an influencer dabbling in racing—this was a racer who happened to have a camera.
The praise didn’t stop there. Kevin Harvick, a NASCAR Cup Series champion with a reputation for blunt honesty, sat down with Mitchell on his podcast. The conversation revealed a mutual respect, with Harvick applauding Mitchell’s patience. “You and I have both seen people shove their way into Cup and look like fools,” Harvick said. Mitchell, however, isn’t rushing. His sights are set on the 2027 Daytona 500, a goal that’s ambitious but no longer seems far-fetched. Harvick’s endorsement carries weight—when a legend vouches for you, the racing world listens.
What makes Mitchell’s rise so captivating is his refusal to conform. He’s not trying to shed the Cleetus persona or trade his fanbase for a polished NASCAR image. Instead, he’s bringing his community along for the ride. His YouTube videos now blend racecar prep with his signature chaos—think dyno tests mixed with monster truck rallies. Fans who once cheered for burnouts now follow his lap times, creating a crossover audience that NASCAR hasn’t seen before. This isn’t just a driver climbing the ranks; it’s a cultural shift, one that’s drawing younger eyes to a sport often criticized for its aging fanbase.
Mitchell’s story resonates because it’s authentic. He’s not pretending to be someone he’s not. The mullet, the humor, the unrelenting hustle—it’s all real. When he talks about racing, you hear the hunger in his voice, the same hunger that built a YouTube channel from nothing. Papis put it best: “He’s not a YouTuber pretending to race. He’s a racer who built a platform.” That platform is now his superpower, amplifying his journey and inspiring fans who see themselves in his underdog story.
As Mitchell eyes the Daytona 500, the question isn’t whether he belongs—it’s how far he can go. NASCAR’s old guard is watching, and they’re not just impressed; they’re believers. For a sport built on speed and spectacle, Cleetus McFarland might just be the spark it needs. His next race could be your reason to tune in. Will you be watching when he takes on the big leagues?
