In a quiet corner of West Michigan, where the Pere Marquette Highway cuts through apple orchards and towering wind turbines, Rex Pedersen is hard at work. The soft hum of his high-tech engraving setup mixes with the blare of “Hotel California” over his sound system as he labors over a project that will take him 82 hours to complete: the NASCAR Goodyear Gold Car trophy.
Rex is a study in contrasts. Outside his 19th-century farmhouse—a building otherwise little changed since it was built—sits a black Maserati, gleaming beside the remains of the family-owned gun shop, now closed. Inside, his parlor-turned-engraving studio brims with cutting-edge tools, the glow of red-tinted light, and a sliding glass door that must have been added in the 1970s. Beyond that door lies an overgrown orchard and the creek where he played as a boy.
“People are always surprised,” Rex says, after taking a call. “Yes, it’s me, living large in an old farmhouse with three cats and an 83-year-old sister.” He chuckles at the image.
Rex has been engraving since 1978, a third-generation gunsmith who trained under Austria’s Martin Strolz in the GRS Grand Masters Program. Over decades, he has refined a craft that blends technical precision with artistic flair. His intricate freehand carvings—on firearms, trophies, and other commissions—have graced publications like Guns Magazine and Custom Firearms Engraving, earning him awards including the FEGA James Meek Award and the Smith & Wesson Masterpiece Award.
For the past 25 years, Rex has been responsible for engraving the Goodyear Gold Car trophy for the NASCAR Cup Series Champion. Each car-shaped trophy demands extraordinary patience and attention to detail, and Rex treats each one like a living, breathing entity.
“You sit here, waiting for the car to arrive, like a baby being delivered,” he says, smiling. “Eighteen-hour days, eyes bleeding, AC/DC and Guns N’ Roses cranked up while I chip away!”
Rex’s influence extends beyond his own work. He teaches others, including Kindred, the designer behind Taylor Swift’s engagement ring. And while he began his trade years ago imagining engravers as old men in jewelry shops listening to classical music, Rex now finds himself the “old guy” and it’s not anything like he’d imagined.
On inherited property near a light that blinks at an intersection now less traveled, Rex Pedersen represents a fascinating intersection of tradition and modernity. The meticulous craft of engraving—passed down through generations, refined by global masters, and applied to a sport that few would have predicted when the artform began—finds its cozy home among creeky floorboards and congenial cats.
For Pedersen, each carving is more than decoration; it is artistry made tangible. And for anyone lucky enough to stop by, it’s a chance to witness a master at work in a world where few could imagine a NASCAR trophy, a black Maserati, a shuttered gun shop, and an old farmhouse coming together so perfectly.
