Our Mission
Our mission at Dilly Dick’n Adventures is simple: escape the real world, invade the wilderness, and turn perfectly normal camping trips into unnecessary, overconfident operations fueled by campfires, cinnamon courage, and the phrase “watch this.”
We exist to make memories the hard way—by doing the least efficient thing possible, laughing the entire time, and documenting the evidence so no one can deny it later. Along the way, we create wildly questionable t-shirt ideas, sell them to unsuspecting supporters, and funnel every penny into our highly irresponsible “Bad Idea Fund” so we can keep upgrading our shenanigans (and occasionally replace whatever we broke).
Most importantly, we welcome anyone who believes life’s too short for boring weekends. If you’ve ever looked at a terrible plan and thought, “Yeah, but it’ll make a great story,” you’re already one of us. Grab a shirt, sponsor the chaos, and proudly join the ranks of the fellow Dilly Dickers.
Justin Stotts
Justin Stotts is the ringleader of Dilly Dick’n Adventures — a plumber by trade, a chaos coordinator by calling, and the guy most likely to get the campsite kicked out (purely on vocabulary alone). He swears like a sailor, leads with confidence, and punctuates most plans with his signature motto: “F ’em kids.”
Somehow, he’s also the chef of the group — which means you’ll hear the most unholy language imaginable… right before he serves a meal that makes you forget you’re eating off a folding table in the woods. If there’s a toolbelt on one hip and a spatula in the other, you’ve found Justin.
Kyle Kruer
Kyle Kruer is the crew’s firefighter, full-time handyman, and part-time “responsible adult” (even though he’s not the oldest). He looks enough like Justin’s twin that people assume they came as a matching set, but Kyle’s got a country twang, a toolbox mentality, and the kind of old-man energy that shows up with extra zip ties… and a lecture nobody asked for.
He can fix just about anything at camp—chairs, coolers, egos, you name it—right up until someone says, “C’mon Kyle, it’ll be funny.” Because despite being the group’s unofficial safety officer, he’s also shockingly easy to peer pressure.
And for the cherry on top: he’s swift-water certified… and was still the first one to flip his kayak. Professional training meets Dilly Dicker physics.
Brian Neff
Brian Neff is basically Frank-the-Tank energy in camping form. You could hand him the worst drink ever invented—lukewarm, questionable, possibly carbonated for no reason—and he’d chug it without blinking like it’s a fine bourbon tasting. No complaints. Just vibes.
He’s also the crew’s resident Tesla disciple. If it has a battery, a screen, or an over-the-air update, Brian’s already obsessed—especially his Cybertruck. His sacred phrase is “In Elon we trust,” and yes, he’s the guy who brings Starlink to the woods like the forest needs Wi-Fi.
Most importantly, Brian is the one who peer pressures everyone into buying tech we didn’t know existed and definitely don’t need. One minute you’re roasting marshmallows, the next you’re $900 deep into a “rugged, waterproof, titanium, satellite-enabled” gadget because Brian said, “Trust me… it’s worth it.”
Bill Hammond
Bill Hammond is the crew’s short ginger wildcard—powered by pure chaos, competitive energy, and a suspiciously strong need for “upsies.” He’s got full-blown little man syndrome in the best way: always loud, always confident, and always ready to prove he can do anything a taller person can… preferably while laughing the entire time.
By day he plays volleyball and does taekwondo. By night he transforms into the group’s goofy hype-man and unofficial Fireball recruiter. If you hear “C’mon, one shot!” echoing through the campsite, that’s Bill—already holding the bottle like it’s a microphone. He doesn’t just buy Fireball… he buys it by the buckets, like he’s preparing for a cinnamon-flavored apocalypse.
Steve Jackson
Steve Jackson is the group’s resident shit-stirrer—equal parts tech guy and chaos consultant. He’s the one who’ll talk you into doing something spectacularly stupid with a straight face, then take three steps back, cross his arms, and enjoy the turmoil like it’s premium entertainment. If you hear “It’ll be fine…” followed by immediate regret, Steve was definitely involved.
He’s also the crew’s tech brain: cables, gadgets, troubleshooting—Steve’s in his element. He loves his truck almost as much as he loves watching other people make bad decisions. The only line he draws? Fireball shots. He wants no part of that cinnamon punishment.
And just to keep him humble: his wife is handier than he is, which Steve will absolutely deny while she quietly fixes whatever he “almost had.”