When the Plan Falls Apart

Anthony Drayson

College 2016

When Anthony Drayson opened MotoZone's doors in January 2020, he had a clear vision. He wanted to create a base for people who love the desert and the machines that move through it.

A few weeks later, COVID-19 shut down the world.

Tourists vanished, bookings dried up, and the business model he'd built around people, movement, and shared experience became impossible overnight.

It was a perfect storm. But it wasn't Anthony's first.

The Accident That Changed Everything

Years earlier, during what should have been the steady middle stretch of his education, Anthony had fallen. The result was a fractured skull and a slow-burning concussion that went unnoticed at first.

The effects crept in gradually, making it harder and harder to focus. He tried pushing through, but eventually things gave way. Subjects were dropped and university plans were shelved. For a while, it felt like everything he'd been working towards had gone off-course.

The DESS College nurse picked up the signs. With her help and the quiet intervention of a few sharp-eyed teachers, Anthony found another route forward. One teacher suggested drumming - not because it solved everything, but because it gave him something to hold onto. He started playing in school shows and rehearsals. It was loud, physical, rhythmic. But most importantly, it was his.

Anthony shifted his focus to the business and entrepreneurship BTEC, where things finally began to click. The structure suited him, as did the idea of creating something tangible. He started thinking seriously about turning his passion for off-road riding into something more than a pastime.

MotoZone began with three people doing everything. The original idea was straightforward: storage for off-road vehicles and maybe some buggy tours. But Anthony's connection to the desert ran deeper than that. Bikes weren't just part of his life, they were his rhythm, his clarity, and the thing that had always made sense. That personal connection shaped the business, and what started as a utility project evolved into something more personal and much harder to build.

Then COVID Hit

With the business barely out of the gate, Anthony and his team had to tear up the blueprint and start again. Everything moved online. Their operations were streamlined and they had to rethink what they could offer. It was brutal, unrewarding work; the kind of daily grind that offers no guarantees and very little external validation. Nevertheless, they kept going.

Marketing didn't come easily. "It's not something I've ever been naturally good at," Anthony admits. "But I learned enough to make it work. And now I've got tools that help - AI, automation, whatever gets us where we need to be."

What MotoZone Became

Today, MotoZone looks nothing like the modest idea it started as. There are fourteen team members, a fleet of bikes, over 130 vehicles in storage, and a fully equipped workshop. It's known not just for its services, but for its sense of community. The free group rides still run, and people still drop by just to talk about bikes.

Though very much a business, it's also still a family affair. Anthony's sister Shelly is part of the operation, bringing both support and strain in equal measure.

No Shiny Takeaway

There's no dramatic reinvention here. No overnight success. Just choices made under pressure and a passion that turned into a plan. A young man who learned - by force, by necessity, and by instinct, how to keep going when the plan fell apart.