What happened to Petrolicious? A filmmaker’s personal story.

In my early 20s, I was a touring filmmaker riding the wave of the exploding electronic music scene — airports, nightclubs, and relentless edits. When I first came across the vintage car channel Petrolicious, I was hooked. The contrast of deep story and polished visuals (in an era when DSLRs were rewriting what “low budget” could mean) was magnetic.

I wanted in, but had no street cred. So I set out to change that. In 2013, I took a leap of faith with John Benton of Benton Performance to film The Last Great Road Race, a documentary following his team through La Carrera Panamericana, the 2,000-mile vintage road race across Mexico. With the success of that film, I was able to make inroads, and by the end of 2014, I found myself directing my first Petrolicious episode.

When I arrived, the mandate from the founders was to pick up the torch where Josh Clason, the brand’s original filmmaker, had left off. They were expanding to a diverse roster of directors worldwide, so it was an exciting opportunity to put my spin on the films while keeping the tone unified.

Given the minimal pay, I realized the only way to make the work viable was to approach production the way a musician approaches touring. With Aaron McKenzie, a talented internal producer who sourced subjects, I’d grab a camera, a friend, and we’d set out to shoot a series of episodes within a week. Each was strictly a one-day production — dawn to dusk to capture the light — often followed by overnight drives to reposition for the next.

For a young director, it was a dream: travel, filmmaking, friendship, and, above all, the subjects we met. Everyone had a story to share, and the more we rolled out the red-carpet experience, the more they gave back, making their “15 minutes” that much more meaningful. Somehow, the intensity of those days forged lasting relationships — many of which I still hold close. I also worked to expand it from primarily SoCal to the Southwest, Hawaii, Latin America, and more.

As the episodes piled up, my goal was simple: come for the car, stay for the person. I wanted the films to feel approachable, even altruistic — a reminder that a shared passion could connect us. That tone built not just viewership, but a genuine community. And in 2015, it worked. Of the 60 or so films I directed, they’ve since reached over 20 million views.

That year felt like a groove: tighter production, tighter storytelling, and a stream of feedback in the comments (my favorites were always the ones calling out crossing the double yellows). Petrolicious became, for a moment, a benchmark of automotive storytelling — authentic stories, cinematic craft, consistency, and a community where anyone with a passion for cars felt they belonged. Standouts were both on and off-road, from the legendary Miura to an FJ40 in Idaho, to a brand partnership with Mercedes featuring Sir Stirling Moss and the 722.

But challenges emerged. Despite numerous talented contributors, credits were never given directly on the films. With low pay, that omission made it hard to justify the workload. If budgets couldn’t scale, recognition had to — and it wasn’t happening. By 2016, new leadership began steering the brand toward luxury and exclusivity. While it may have been a logical commercial move, the approachable, community-driven tone felt like it gave way to something more “look what I have.”

For my final episode, I came full circle with John Benton, who had first taken a chance on me in Mexico. It was a coalescence of friendship, intentional storytelling, thoughtful cinematography, and a heartfelt message. It remains one of my favorite episodes to this day.

For me, Petrolicious was a proving ground that opened other doors. I launched my own channel, Praemio, to keep experimenting with human-driven stories, and soon found myself working with global automotive brands that valued authenticity and cinematic craft.

Looking back, Petrolicious had the world at its fingertips: a passionate community, a global roster of filmmakers, commercial partnerships, and cultural momentum. But as talented people came and went, as ownership shifted, and as platforms evolved toward creator-driven content, the format struggled to adapt. It no longer felt as singular as it once did. It's encouraging to see that the newest iteration of the channel is crediting filmmakers, and hopefully, it can find its new place in the ever-growing echochamber.

Still, I think about what made that era special. It wasn’t just cars — it was people, belonging, shared stories, and a balance of demand and supply. For me, it was where I learned to schedule efficiently, to chase light with precision, to travel with gear without sacrificing quality, and to build my company, Valkyr, on the back of repeatable, high-quality filmmaking.

Ten years on, I’m reminded that while formats evolve and platforms shift, it’s the story — and the people — that endure. For me, Petrolicious wasn’t just a job; it was a crucible that shaped how I see filmmaking, community, and craft. And though the brand’s trajectory changed, that core — the heartbeat behind the facade — is what I still chase today.

More of my favorites:

Petrolicious – Sir Stirling Moss and this Mercedes-Benz 300 SLR Remain Unbeaten
Petrolicious – The Lamborghini Miura Is Still Untamed
Petrolicious – This 1968 Porsche 911L Was Just A Dream
Petrolicious – This DR30 Nissan Skyline is the Red Panda
Petrolicious - This Porsche 356 is Driven Against The Grain

- Jeremy