From Backwoods Washington to Badassador: Rochelle Richmond’s Mopar_® Journey

Some people discover cars later in life. Rochelle Richmond was born into them. Growing up in the backwoods of Washington State, where self-reliance wasn’t just a philosophy but a necessity, Richmond learned early that if something broke, you fixed it yourself. Her grandfather, now 87 and still working on yard equipment, became her first and most influential teacher.

“Out on the farm, you learned to fix all your own stuff,” Richmond explains. “I learned welding, woodworking, plumbing, working on cars, you name it.” That excitement would shape the trajectory of her entire life, though the path wouldn’t always be straightforward.

Like many young people with mechanical aptitude, Richmond initially followed the safer path her family encouraged. She tried nursing, spending less than a year in the field before switching to heavy-duty diesel repair. It was a different kind of nursing, I joked, just with inanimate patients.

Her introduction to the world of high-performance cars came early. At just 12 years old, Richmond spent an entire summer at a local shop, working for free just to learn. The mechanics there were building a custom car with a slightly rowdy V8, and Richmond built that engine from the ground up alongside them. At 12 years old! Did I mention she was 12?

In the backwoods culture where Richmond grew up, there were two primary pursuits: building cars to go fast and building trucks to conquer the woods. As soon as she got her license, she was racing on back roads where everyone met with walkie-talkies, running for bragging rights. “Not any of this crazy stuff they do now,” she clarifies. “I hate the takeovers. We just went to a back road and ran.”

Richmond’s racing pursuits took an unexpected turn when she switched to motocross, racing for several years until a separated collarbone eventually pushed her back to cars. She tried to keep riding for fun, even getting her daughter started on dirt bikes, but ultimately returned to four wheels for good.

Today, Richmond has three children – her daughter, now approaching 22, and two younger boys. Pictures show her daughter at six or seven helping build a 1962 Willys in the garage. When Richmond asked her to remove the carburetor, the young girl had it off in ten minutes. Richmond’s sons now put their Power Wheels up on jack stands and work on them when they can’t help with the real cars. Start ’em young.

Rochelle found her Mopar_® calling in February 2021 when she spotted a 1968 Plymouth Valiant headed for the crusher – nothing but an empty shell without even a door handle. “Everybody told me you’re crazy,” she remembers. She told her kids they were canceling summer camping to camp in the garage instead, promising Disneyland the next year. Their mission: get the Valiant on track at Sacramento Raceway’s Mopar Shootout in September.

Working day and night, Richmond and her crew transformed the shell into a complete racecar. She dropped in a 440, did all bodywork and painting herself, and handled the custom interior work, a skill she credits to her seamstress grandmother. When she tubbed the rear, Richmond reconstructed a seat she bought on eBay, re-welding it to fit so her kids could still ride along.

In September 2021, Richmond rolled onto Sacramento Raceway before finishing her self-imposed 500-mile break-in. She ran low 12s through two rounds before facing a brand-new Dodge Challenger SRT^® Hellcat in round three. The outcome was predictable, but Richmond didn’t care. She’d proven everyone wrong. The Valiant was race-ready and show-ready, a complete build in seven months!

The Valiant, which Richmond calls Ivy, became more than just a car. When it appeared at Barrett-Jackson, she fielded countless messages asking her if it was for sale. Her answer was simple: there is no price. “You can’t replace all the hours and blood and sweat and tears and memories,” she says. “There are so many things that you can’t replace.”

After completing the build, Richmond faced the builder’s dilemma: what now? Her daily driver was a 2003 Cummins she’d owned for over 18 years, but navigating California with a lifted three-quarter-ton long bed with small children proved impractical. The solution came in the form of a Dodge Charger Scat Pack – a “cool mom car” with four doors and performance.

Rochelle swore she wouldn’t modify it. Of course, we all know better. By the time the dealership returned it from ceramic coating two days later, she already had side skirts, a front splitter, diffuser and wicker bill ready to install.

Initially self-conscious about taking a modern Dodge to shows when everyone knew her for the Valiant, Richmond gradually found her place. When winter came and the Valiant hibernated, she started taking the Charger, named Harley, to events. “There are things I can get from driving my Charger that I cannot get in my Valiant,” she explains. “They are two completely different worlds with their own lanes.”

If you want to know more about Harley, have a look at the feature we put together.

Richmond had been running separate social media pages for old- and new-school builds, but managing both proved overwhelming. She merged them, declaring, “We are going to combine these two worlds, whether you like it or not.” After initial resistance, her followers came to appreciate both sides of the Mopar spectrum.

This approach led Richmond to Mopar Heaven in Texas, where she connected with enthusiasts from around the country. An article about her story led her to discover Dodge’s Badassador program. “I saw the thing about ‘do you think that you could be a Dodge Badassador’ and I was like, yeah, I can. I sure can,” Richmond recalls. She applied, interviewed and well… here we are!

Since becoming a Badassador, Richmond has fully built Harley to 100 percent custom specification, taking the Charger to SEMA. The car now has over 120,000 miles on the odometer. She put an average of 34,000 miles on it per year before pulling it from daily duty. She’s since acquired a Durango RT as her new daily, and yes, she already has a diffuser on order despite swearing she wouldn’t modify it. Again, we all know better. Bring in the supercharger, suspension and rims! LOL.

For Richmond, everything is measured in modification potential. When she and her husband got married last year, they chose Mopar Heaven for the ceremony. “All I’m seeing is mod money,” she reasoned. Getting married at the event meant their cars were there, all their friends from around the country were in one place and the savings could go toward the next build.

That next build is already calling. A 1968 Dodge Dart sits near Richmond’s home for $2,000. She weighs the cost of trailering cars to Mopar Heaven – $3,000 to $4,000 per car – against driving them 1,800 miles each way. By driving rather than trailering, she can afford to buy the Dart and start building its engine. She’s also planning to circle back to the Valiant for updates.

Richmond has become a convoy leader for West Coast Mopar enthusiasts making the Texas trek, organizing groups of 10 to 15 cars. “I know where all the good gas stations and restaurants are. I know where we make the stops,” she says.

From a 12-year-old building her first engine to a Dodge Badassador organizing cross-country convoys, Richmond’s journey exemplifies the passion that drives car culture. She’s teaching her children the same lessons her grandparents taught her, building the same bonds in the garage that shaped her life. Her boys put their Power Wheels on jack stands, her daughter knows how to change her own oil, and Richmond continues proving that with enough determination and a summer in the garage, the impossible becomes inevitable.

Whether it’s a 1968 Valiant or a modern Charger with 120,000 hard-driven miles, Richmond has found her lane in both old- and new-school Mopar culture. She’s shown that you don’t have to choose – you can camp in the garage all summer, promise your kids Disneyland and prove everyone wrong who says it can’t be done. That’s the spirit of both the backwoods Washington farm girl and the California Badassador, seamlessly merged in hands that can weld, sew upholstery, drop in a 440 and still make it to Cars and Coffee with the kids in the back seat.