June 21, 2025

A day that changed our lives. June 21, 2025. A freak accident. A scary situation. A life-changing moment. In a split second, the career of a very promising and proven ATV racer and the best to ever come out of Canada was taken. Seven months later, life has returned to the new normal. Happiness has been found outside of racing, consistently travelling, and the pressure. Happiness has been found in the little everyday moments in the big things that were rarely experienced while constantly on the road, racing, or in training.

Working, snowmobiling, building trucks, weekends away, working out when wanted, free time and treats. The little things in life that most people take for granted have given such happiness in such a trying time.

Seven months later, we found out that recovery is possible. Happiness is possible. A silver lining, the bright side, the way it was meant to be. It is possible.

Seven months later, stepping out of the tight-knit community, we see differently. We notice things we didn't and we're able to appreciate the small things.

Seven months later, retired at 19. Life is weird, but it can also be beautiful and full of happiness.

As I said to the world on Social Media:

Over 14 years ago, I made a promise to that little boy in this picture – a promise to push myself as far as possible in the sport I loved, to chase championships, and one day, to turn pro. Today, as I stand here, that journey takes an unexpected turn.

Many of you know that about a year and a half ago, I broke my ankle, a setback that tested my resolve. But nothing could have prepared me for June 21, 2025, at Budd’s Creek. That terrible crash—the right acetabular fracture of my hip, the fractured wrist, the contusions on my lungs, and the severe concussion—changed everything in an instant. Lying in that hospital bed in Maryland for four days, waiting for the medivac home to Toronto, I had no idea how close I was to the edge. Multiple organ failure, my body fighting against itself as my CK levels soared. It was a battle just to stabilize, to make it through surgery at St. Mike’s. Nine weeks post-op, and I’ve gone from a wheelchair to a walker, to a cane, and now, walking unassisted. The limp is a reminder, but so is every step forward.

This isn’t how I envisioned ending my racing career. Like every racer, I dreamed of going out on my own terms, with one last glorious race. But sometimes, life has other plans. I’ve realized that escaping death is a victory in itself. I carry with me the incredible people I’ve met, the unforgettable memories made, and the unwavering support of all of you. Thank you seems inadequate, but it comes from the depths of my heart. Mom and Dad, your unconditional love has been my foundation. To my friends, sponsors, and Mark Baldwin, your belief in me has fueled my drive. And Sienna, your presence during my darkest moments has been my light. As I look ahead, I’m filled with hope and excitement for what’s to come. This isn’t the end; it’s a new beginning.

Talk to you all later!

-THE BEST TO EVER COME OUT OF CANADA, Tom Ebdon