There is an old paradox in human experience: the extraordinary, repeated often enough, becomes ordinary. NASCAR driver Chase Briscoe lives this truth at two hundred miles per hour thirty-eight weekends a year, yet finds his deepest sense of aliveness not on the track, but in the quiet woods of North Carolina, waiting for a deer at dawn. In the unpredictability of the hunt, he has rediscovered what routine had quietly taken from him — and in sharing it with his four-year-old son, he is doing what generations before him have always done: passing wonder forward.
NASCAR's Chase Briscoe finds bigger rush in deer hunting than 200-mph racing
The adrenaline is like a drug I can't get rid of
Mark
So a NASCAR driver says hunting gives him a bigger rush than racing. That's a striking claim. What's actually going on there?
Mimi
He's been racing thirty-eight weekends a year for years. The adrenaline has become background noise. Hunting is still novel—unpredictable. He describes it like an addiction he can't shake.
Luke
But is that really about hunting, or is it about the break from routine? He also mentions it's peaceful, solitary time away from three kids and a chaotic schedule.
Mimi
Both, I think. The rush matters. But so does the escape. He gets mornings alone watching the sun come up. That's rare for him.
Mark
And his son is already hunting with him at four years old. How does that work?
Mimi
Brooks went out for the first time and shot a buck. Then a doe the next season. He's already outpacing his dad's early hunting record.
Luke
Is that safe? A four-year-old with a rifle?
Mimi
The source doesn't address safety protocols. It says Briscoe helped him sight in the rifle and he pulled the trigger, but there's no detail about supervision, training, or how that actually works mechanically.
Mark
What does Briscoe say the real value is?
Mimi
Making memories. He remembers fishing with his grandfather as a kid—those are his favorite childhood memories. Now he's creating the same thing for Brooks.
Luke
That's genuine. But it's also worth noting: Briscoe is relatively new to hunting himself. He's not a lifelong outdoorsman. He's maybe five or six years in.
Mimi
True. But he's already planning elk hunts out west, thinking about archery hunting. He's moving fast.
Mark
Does Brooks want to go on those trips?
Mimi
Briscoe thinks he will. He jokes that Brooks has the energy for all the hiking. But Brooks is four. That's speculation about what a four-year-old will want in a few years.
The Pulse
- Racing at 200 mph has become so routine for Briscoe that the adrenaline has essentially gone flat, leaving him searching for a sensation his career no longer reliably provides.
- Deer hunting on his North Carolina property delivered that missing rush with startling force — unpredictable, sharp, and by his own description, addictive in a way racing once was.
- Beyond the thrill, Briscoe is navigating the quiet exhaustion of a packed NASCAR schedule and three young children, using solitary morning hunts as his only reliable refuge from the noise.
- His four-year-old son Brooks has already outpaced him — bagging a buck on his very first hunt, while it took Briscoe a year and a half to do the same — turning a personal escape into a shared family tradition.
- Briscoe is now planning western elk and mule deer expeditions, with Brooks almost certainly in tow, suggesting this father-son story is only in its earliest chapters.
There is an old paradox in human experience: the extraordinary, repeated often enough, becomes ordinary. NASCAR driver Chase Briscoe lives this truth at two hundred miles per hour thirty-eight weekends a year, yet finds his deepest sense of aliveness not on the track, but in the quiet woods of North Carolina, waiting for a deer at dawn. In the unpredictability of the hunt, he has rediscovered what routine had quietly taken from him — and in sharing it with his four-year-old son, he is doing what generations before him have always done: passing wonder forward.
Chase Briscoe spends thirty-eight weekends a year behind the wheel of a race car, pushing speeds near two hundred miles per hour. By any measure, that should be sufficient excitement. Yet the NASCAR driver has found something that hits harder: hunting deer in the woods around his North Carolina property.
Briscoe didn't come to hunting through racing — he came through fishing. Sunday afternoons at his grandfather's pond in Indiana shaped a love of the outdoors that followed him into adulthood. When he and his wife purchased about thirty acres in North Carolina, the land was full of deer, and he decided to try hunting for the first time. He was immediately hooked.
What struck him was how the sensation compared to the track. Racing, he explained, has become normalized by sheer repetition — the adrenaline has flattened over years of weekly competition. Hunting remains unpredictable. Every sit in the stand is different, and that novelty produces a rush he describes as something close to a drug he can't shake. Beyond the thrill, hunting offers him something rarer still: silence. With three children and a relentless schedule, quiet mornings alone in the woods have become his primary escape.
These days, though, solitude is harder to come by — because his four-year-old son Brooks wants in on everything. When Briscoe mentioned a possible Monday hunt at the start of deer season, Brooks jumped up and down with excitement. The boy had already declared, unprompted, that he planned to shoot only bucks this season. The confidence wasn't entirely unfounded: on his very first hunt, Brooks got a buck — a small four-pointer — while it took his father roughly a year and a half to achieve the same milestone.
For Briscoe, the deeper purpose isn't the harvest. It's the time away from screens and distraction, the one-on-one moments that become the memories children carry for life. He still holds his own — fishing with his grandfather — and now he gets to be the one on the other side of that equation.
Looking ahead, Briscoe has his sights set on elk out west, drawn to the challenge of a bow hunt in open country. He's less enthusiastic about the hiking, he admits with a laugh — but confident that if the trip happens, Brooks will be right there beside him, probably with more energy than anyone.
Chase Briscoe spends thirty-eight weekends a year driving a race car at speeds approaching two hundred miles per hour. By any reasonable measure, that should be enough adrenaline for one person. Yet the NASCAR driver has found something that gives him a bigger rush: hunting deer in the woods near his home in North Carolina.
Briscoe didn't grow up as a hunter. His connection to the outdoors began much earlier, in childhood, at his grandfather's pond back in Indiana. Sunday afternoons meant fishing—a ritual he carried into his teenage years, when he and his friends would seek out farm ponds and creeks whenever they could. That love of being outside never left him. When he and his wife, Marissa, purchased roughly thirty acres in North Carolina a few years ago, the property came loaded with deer. Briscoe decided to try hunting for the first time. He was hooked almost immediately.
What surprised him was how the sensation compared to racing. "It's the closest thing I've ever been able to come to racing, and honestly, I feel like it's surpassed racing," he said in an interview with OutKick OutDoors. The explanation, he believes, is straightforward: racing has become routine. After years of competing week after week, the adrenaline has flattened into normalcy. Hunting, by contrast, remains unpredictable and sharp. "The racing deal, I do it so often," he explained. "We race thirty-eight weekends a year that, truthfully, the adrenaline kind of goes away because you do it all the time. Getting to go hunting and getting to feel that adrenaline is like this drug that I can't get rid of."
But the appeal runs deeper than the rush. Briscoe has three children and a NASCAR schedule that leaves little room for quiet. Hunting has become his escape—a chance to watch the sun come up alone, to step away from the noise and chaos that defines the rest of his life. "For me, it's been just an amazing getaway," he said. "Just to kind of be able to get out in the outdoors and start my morning and just watch the sun come up, or just go out there and be by myself. We have three kids, and then obviously the chaos of just my career. You don't get a lot of time just to yourself."
These days, though, Briscoe rarely hunts alone. His four-year-old son Brooks has caught the bug—perhaps even worse than his father. When North Carolina's deer season began, Briscoe mentioned to Brooks that he might be able to join him on a Monday hunt. "He was jumping up and down," Briscoe recalled. About a month and a half earlier, Brooks had made an even more ambitious declaration. While driving down the road, the boy turned to his dad and said, "I think this year I'm just gonna just shoot bucks this year. No more does." Briscoe laughed at the confidence.
Brooks had earned the right to be confident. The very first time he went hunting with his father, he got a buck—a small four-pointer, but a buck nonetheless. He helped sight in the rifle and pulled the trigger. The following season, he took another step forward, lining up a doe on his own and pulling the trigger. For comparison, it took Briscoe about a year and a half to get his first buck. "He definitely was beating me already," Briscoe said.
But for Briscoe, the point of taking his children hunting isn't about who shoots the biggest animal. It's about the time together, away from phones and tablets and television. "There's so many distractions in today's world," he said. "For me to be able to get them outside and just get away from all those distractions. You get to spend one-on-one time and just make a lot of great memories." He still carries his own memories from childhood—fishing with his grandfather—and now he gets to be the one creating those moments for his son. "To be able to be the one that's taking my son out there and letting him have these amazing memories—he'll always remember catching a big bass or getting that big buck. That's just one of those core memories that you never forget."
Briscoe is already thinking ahead. He wants to hunt elk out west, drawn to the challenge of getting close to one with a bow. The hiking part appeals to him less, he joked, but he's confident about one thing: if he makes that trip, Brooks will likely be coming along. "He would have the energy too, to be hiking and walking around all the time," Briscoe said. "So yeah, if we get to do it one day, maybe he'll go with me."
Notable Quotes
It's the closest thing I've ever been able to come to racing, and honestly, I feel like it's surpassed racing.— Chase Briscoe, NASCAR driver
There's so many distractions in today's world with phones and tablets and TV. For me to be able to get them outside and just get away from all those distractions—you get to spend one-on-one time and just make a lot of great memories.— Chase Briscoe, on why he takes his children hunting
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