Riverton, Utah

Our Story

Ice and asphalt look like opposites. The grit it takes to show up for either one is the same.

Puck & Piston started where a lot of good things in Utah start, in a garage. A screen press in the corner, a bike that always needs something, and hockey gear drying out by the door.

I'm Redd. I'm into motorcycles and custom cars, and I've spent more early mornings at the rink than I can count, a lot of them watching my kid in goalie pads. For a long time those felt like separate worlds. The more time I spent in them, the more I saw the same kind of people: the ones who show up, push their limits, and help the next person get better.

That's who this brand is for. It doesn't matter what you ride, drive, or skate. If you show up and put the work in, you belong here.

We make clothes for the bike, the garage, and the rink. The Standards come from trusted print partners, so they're always ready to go. Small Batch pieces are pulled by hand in house, and Upcycled pieces are thrifted and reworked into one-of-ones. Every design starts as a sketch at the kitchen table.

Where we're headed

Bigger than a shirt.

We want to see hockey grow in Utah, and everywhere, until it's as big as football and basketball, starting with the kids just learning to skate. We want riders and car people to have gear that holds up to real life. And we want everyone who wears this to know they're not in it alone. Check on your crew.

Meet the passenger

A Grimshaw Story

Every brand has a mascot. Ours has a past.

Grimshaw was a traveling bluesman back in the 1920s, drifting from juke joint to juke joint across the South. He had a way with a guitar and a sharp tongue, but one night at a dusty crossroads he made a bad deal with the wrong man, a rival musician who promised him fame in exchange for his most prized possession: an old family guitar. The man took the guitar, poisoned his whiskey, and left him to die in the crossroads dirt.

His spirit never settled. For decades he wandered the backroads, watching travelers pass him by and waiting for someone who'd treat him right. He learned every road, every engine note, and every kind of person who shows up where the pavement ends.

Years later, a little stitched-up doll at a roadside market caught his eye. Skull face, scars sewn shut, like somebody had already tried to put it back together once. It felt familiar. He slipped inside, and the rider who bought it did something nobody had done in a hundred years: talked to him, and took him along.

Grimshaw never did anything halfway, not in life and not after it. He played until his fingers bled, lived like the night owed him money, and never backed down from a fight. So it's no surprise who he's drawn to: the ones who live hard and don't apologize for it. The drifter running door to door with inches to spare. The rally driver sending it sideways through the gravel. The rider dragging a knee through a canyon corner. The hockey D-man who finishes every check and takes the boards to make the play. Different machines, same blood. Every one of them knows what it means to take a hit, get back up, and go harder. Grimshaw wears his stitches the way they wear their scars, as proof he showed up.

Now he goes wherever his people go. Wedged by the ignition on a sportbike, riding shotgun on a drift night, tucked in the side pocket of a hockey bag on the way to a 6 a.m. skate. Road or rink, it doesn't matter to him. He's just happy to be moving again, this time with people who won't leave him on the side of the road.

He doesn't say much. You'll feel a chill or a soft tap when something's off: a loose bolt, a bad feeling about the next corner, someone in the group who's gone a little too quiet. He keeps bad luck, mechanical gremlins, and shady characters away from his people, and he's got a mischievous streak for anyone who has it coming. Keys go missing. Rival tires go soft. Nobody can prove a thing.

He was left behind once. He'll never let it happen to one of yours.

Keep an eye out. Grimshaw has a habit of showing up where you least expect him.

What we ride by

The Nine Noble Virtues

Courage, truth, honor, and six more. Nine old virtues that guide how we build this brand and how we try to show up for each other.