I was born into Swedish royalty but disinherited during my formative years over my intense love of Henrik Ibsen plays. Drifting aimlessly, I found myself on the North American continent with nothing but shoes on my feet and a Swedish crown that, for the record, got me nowhere in Hoboken. Destitution drove me to small-time 7-11 heists. After my arrest, a fair damsel from rural Alabama paid my bail, got me a good lawyer and and sent me to truck driving school. I loved driving 18-wheelers but eventually was forced into bankruptcy to shed myself of video poker debts. Now I work as a Washington lobbyist, representing the interests of Southern fireworks stands and Spam, the other white meat. My dream is to someday drive a Granny Gear trailer from Thomas, WVA to Moab. Oh, and this is my second Big Bear race. Last year I raced for Team Chunder Pig, but was kicked off for racing with the baton stored in my jock.