Ayden Feezel sounds like someone who was born with a wrench in his hand. He's a senior now, coasting down the home stretch of high school, but when he talks about automotive work—pulling engines, diagnosing suspension issues, swapping brakes, tuning for power—it's clear that this isn't a hobby for him. It's the thing that makes him come alive.

His mom planted the seed. She wasn't a mechanic herself, but she loved cars and never had the chance to pursue that passion. Ayden saw what happened when opportunity slipped away, and he wasn't about to let it happen to him. When he was a sophomore, and the Okaw Area Vocational Center signup sheets came around, he spotted "Auto Mechanics" and thought, "There's my start right there." He grabbed it.

Now he spends his mornings at Okaw, fully immersed in Automotive Technology from 9:10 to 11:30 each day. While other students are settling into English or geometry, he's elbows-deep in engines, learning theory, taking apart components, and watching the discipline and complexity of modern automotive work unfold in real time. "Class time in automotive has been fun," he says. "It's not all hands-on learning. You've got to read a book every now and then, but it's fun." That blend—academic understanding paired with practical skill—is exactly what programs like Okaw are designed to deliver. And for Ayden, the impact has been transformative. He's already pulled and installed engines in double digits. He's not wandering toward a career. He's charting it.

He lights up when talking about the cars he likes to work on. Japanese imports from the 1990s are his holy grail: Toyota, Honda, Mazda, Mitsubishi—brands that built reliable, race-inspired machines that still captivate enthusiasts. "They were all super reliable," he says. "Daily drivers, trucks, racing—everything." Toyota, in particular, has earned his loyalty. "Those foreign cars are nice," he says with a grin, "except for German ones. German engineering is confusing."

His fascination with performance vehicles started younger than most. He remembers watching Cars over and over at his grandpa's house, followed by NASCAR, rally races, and even comedies like Talladega Nights. "That's why I want to go to performance," he says. "Performance is what got me started. Race cars." That early excitement grew into something more serious the moment he saw that Okaw signup sheet.

Now he's preparing for the next step: postsecondary automotive school. His original plan was Lincoln Tech in Indianapolis—a strong program with serious perks, including a full tool set upon graduation. But then WyoTech visited the high school, and suddenly Ayden found himself weighing options he didn't previously know existed.

WyoTech offers something Lincoln Tech doesn't: six months of core automotive training followed by the chance to stack specialty classes. Performance engines. Interior trim and upholstery. High-octane technical craftsmanship. The things that speak directly to what first pulled him into all of this. "Why would I not want to learn that?" he says. His best friend Anthony, is considering it too, drawn by the same specialty options. His dad tells him to slow down, think it through, and compare the costs. But Ayden's already sold. "I'm just ready to go," he says.

He wants to work in a union shop one day, earn good benefits, and build the kind of career his instructor Gary has talked about—Gary made $93,000 a year at a non-union shop, and a buddy of his in Carlyle pulled in $113,000. Those aren't distant dreams. They're benchmarks Ayden can actually see. "I'm willing to wait," he says. "I'm willing to work for it."

His own van, a 1993 Ford E150 with a conversion kit—the premier edition—has been his personal classroom. He's already done maintenance work on it and keeps a running list of items he wants to inspect or replace, especially after a recent deer-avoidance swerve that landed him briefly in a ditch. He recovered, kept going, and now he's checking the suspension just to be sure. That's how he approaches most things: assess the problem, make the fix, keep moving.

Ayden speaks plainly, but he thinks deeply. He cares about people, bristles at injustice, and admits that even though he practices kickboxing and once tried Brazilian jiu-jitsu, he has no desire to use force outside the gym. His world may be about engines and horsepower, but his outlook is rooted in empathy and hard work.

Through it all, Vandalia has given him room to grow—teachers, counselors, and the Okaw program helping him follow a passion that is already becoming a profession. Not every student gets to see the bridge between high school and adulthood this clearly. Ayden does. And he's ready to step onto it.