The "Get rich slow", or "Slowlane", or "Wealth in a Wheelchair" recipe is like this:
Go to school, get good grades, graduate, get a good job, save 10% of your paycheck, invest in the stock market, max your 401k, slash your credit cards, clip coupons… Then, someday, when you are, oh, 65 years old, you will be rich.

The Millionaire Fastlane isn't a static strategy that preaches "Go buy real estate", "Think positively", or "Start a business", but a complete psychological and mathematical formula that cracks the code to wealth and unlocks the gateway to the shortcut.

If you aren't wealthy, STOP what you're doing. Stop following the crowd and using the wrong formula.

During my Fastlane journey of discovery, I always sought the absolute, infallible formula that would lead to wealth. What I found was ambiguity and subjective imperatives like “be determined” or “persistence pays” or “it's not what you know, but who.”

No one drops millions on your lap; the road is yours to travel and yours alone. I can open the door but I can't make you walk through it.

My intent is to educate you - not to upsell you into some expensive seminar, membership website, or a backend marketing funnel.

PART 1: Wealth in a Wheelchair… “Get Rich Slow” is Get Rich Old


Normal is not something to aspire to, it's something to get away from.

-~ Jodie Foster

The message of “Get Rich Slow” is clear: Sacrifice your today, your dreams, and your life for a plan that pays dividends after most of your life has evaporated.

If you want to retire young with health, vibrancy, and hair, you're going to need to ignore society's default “Get Rich Slow” roadmap.


The object of life is not to be on the side of the masses, but to escape finding oneself in the ranks of the insane.

-~ Marcus Aurelius

The Liberation from Fame and Talent

As for the sweets I pursued that day, I never made it into the store. I turned around and went home with a new reality. I wasn't athletic, I couldn't sing, and I couldn't act, but I could get rich without fame or without physical talent.

From that point forward, things changed. The Lamborghini encounter lasted 90 seconds, but transcended a lifetime of new beliefs, directions, and choices. I decided that I would someday own a Lamborghini and I would do it while I was young. I was unwilling to wait until my next encounter, my next chance experience, and my next poster: I wanted it for myself. Yes, I retired the broomstick and got off my fat ass.

The Search for the Millionaire Fastlane

I sought millionaires who would have started like me, an average guy without any special skill or talent, who, somehow, made it big. Through high school and college, I religiously studied this millionaire divergence. I read magazines, books, and newspapers and watched documentaries of successful businessmen; anything that provided insight into this small subset of millionaires, I absorbed it.

Resistance into Mediocrity

College was a five-year prenatal employee brainwashing. I viewed college as indoctrination into corporate droneship; an unfulfilled marriage between me and a life of jobs, bosses, and being overworked and underpaid.

“I work for Motorola.”
“I got a job at Northwestern Insurance!”
“Hertz Rental Cars hired me as a training manager!”
While I was happy for them, my friends bought the lie that I later define as “The Slowlane.” Me? Thanks but no thanks.

Roadblocks, Detours, and Depression

Despite the confidence, the next few years fell horribly short of my expectations. I lived with my mother as I bounced from one business venture to another. Success was absent. Every month was a different business: vitamins, jewelry, some hot “turnkey” marketing program purchased from the back of a business magazine, or some goofy long-distance network marketing gig.

Despite the hard work, my record of failures grew, as did my mounting debts.

At 26 years old, I fell into depression; my businesses were not self-sufficient and neither was I.

What was I doing wrong? What was holding me back? After all these years of research and education, complete with a closet full of books, magazines, and “quick start” videos, I was still no closer to wealth. I sat stalled on the sidewalk with the Fastlane nowhere in sight.

My deep depression sunk me into escapes, but instead of drugs, sex, or alcohol, I lost myself in books and kept studying fameless millionaires. If I couldn't be successful, I'd escape into the lives of those who were by absorbing books of the rich, autobiographies of the successful, and other rags-to-riches tales.

My mom would shout, “Get a job, baby!” at least 20 times a week. Ugh, even today I shudder. That phrase, shouted in that voice, could exterminate cockroaches in a post-apocalyptic world. There were days I'd want to pound my head into a vise and crush my ears into deafness. “Get a job, baby!” bore into my soul; i

Mom suggested, “The grocery store is hiring a deli manager, why don't you go down there and check it out?” As if my college education and struggles for the last five years were to eclipse at the deli counter, cutting blocks of bologna and ladling potato salad to the neighborhood soccer moms. Thanks for the job tip, but I'll pass.

My Blizzard of Awakening

Sitting on an empty road in a blizzard in the dark of the night out in the middle of nowhere, I'd had it. Sometimes clarity washes over you like a peaceful breeze and other times it hits you over the head like a falling Steinway piano. For me, it was the latter. A sharp declaration overpowered my brain: “You cannot live another day like this!” If I was going to survive, I needed to change.

The Decision to Change

The harsh winter shot me into swift action. I decided to change. I decided to take control over something I thought was uncontrollable: my environment.

My failures evaporated and I felt reborn. Suddenly a dead-end road converged with a dream. It just wasn't about the decision to move; it was about taking control and knowing that I had a choice.

With this new power, I considered options that never had dawned on me. I asked a simple question: “If I could live anywhere in the country without restraint, where would I live?” I thought about the things important to me, and circled five cities on a map. The next month I moved, or I should say, escaped.

The Merge from Slowlane to Fastlane

I arrived in Phoenix with 900 bucks, no job, no friends, and no family-just 330 days of sun and a burning desire to hit the Fastlane.

While driving that limo in Chicago, sometimes I'd sit idle for hours and had plenty of downtime to read books. I didn't waste that time. While I waited for clients at the airport or while they got obliterated at the local watering hole, I sat in the limo and read. And read. I studied everything from finance to Internet programming to more autobiographies of the rich.

But, like my prior businesses, it didn't make a lot of money. However, now it was different. I was naked in a strange town with no money, job, or safety net. I had to focus.

I aggressively marketed my Web site. I sent out emails. Cold-called. Mailed letters. I learned search engine optimization (SEO). Because I couldn't afford books, I visited the Phoenix library daily and studied Internet programming languages. I improved my Web site and learned about graphics and copywriting. Anything that could help me, I consumed.

Then one day I had a breakthrough; I received a call from a company in Kansas that raved about my Web site service and wanted me to design its Web site. While my focus wasn't web design, I obliged for a price of $400. They thought the price was a steal, and within 24 hours, I had built the company its Web site. I was ecstatic. In 24 hours, I had most of my rent payment.
Not 24 hours later, I received another call from a company in New York asking for the same thing, a new Web site. I designed it for $600 and it took me two days to complete. I had another rent payment!

But something still wasn't right. Something was missing and I knew it. Most of my income was attached to my Web site designs and not my Web site advertising business. My income was tied to my time, the construction of Web sites. More Web sites jobs meant more time spent, and if I didn't work, my income would stop. My time was being sold off for money.

A New Wealth Equation Yields Wealth Acceleration

The first month the new system generated $473. Yikes. I built more Web sites to fill my income gap. The second month's revenues were $694. Third month, $970. Then $1,832. $2,314. $3,733. And it continued and continued. It worked.

The glory of the hard work was this: It didn't feel like work; in fact, I enjoyed it. I didn't have a job; I had a passion to make a difference. Thousands of people benefited from something I created, which addicted me to the process.

I started to compile testimonials from clients.
“Because of you, my business grew ten fold.”
“Your Web site led me to my biggest corporate client.”
“Your company has been instrumental in growing my business.”
This feedback was wealth currency. I wasn't awash in riches quite yet, but I felt rich.

My “Faked” Shortcut to Wealth

I accepted offer three and became a millionaire … instantly

At the time, I thought $1.2 million dollars was a lot of money. It wasn't.

Taxes. Worthless stock options. I made mistakes and invested poorly. I bought a Corvette, hoping it would make me look rich. I thought I was rich, but I really wasn't. By the time it was over, I had less than $300,000 left.

Unwilling to watch my creation fade into oblivion, I offered to repurchase my Web site at a fire sale price-a mere $250,000, financed by its own profit. The offer was accepted and I regained control of the same company I had just sold a year earlier. Essentially, I'd operate the business, take the profit and pay down the carry-back loan. What was left over I reinvested into the business. With my company back in my control, a new motivation surfaced-to not only survive the dot-com crash, but to thrive.

The Birth of the Money Tree

I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn't just some lucky chap who got caught up in the dot-com boom. I continued to improve my Web site.
My new passion was automation and process.

I worked less and less. Suddenly, I worked an hour a day instead of ten.
I'd be sick for four days; the money rolled in. I'd day trade for a month; the money rolled in. I'd take a month off; the money rolled in.

Then I realized what I achieved. This was the Fastlane. I built myself a real, living, fruit-bearing money tree. It was a flourishing money tree that made money 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and it didn't require my life for the trade. It required a few hours a month of water and sunshine, which I happily provided. Outside of routine attention, this money tree grew, produced fruit, and gave me the freedom to do whatever I wanted.

Since reclaiming my business, it grew meteorically. Some months I'd PROFIT more than $200,000. Yes, profit! A bad month was $100,000. I earned in two weeks what most people earned in an entire year.

I was a multimillionaire by age 33. If I hadn't sold my business initially, I would have probably arrived there faster, but when you're eating cardboard noodles and someone tosses $1.2 million dollars in your face, not many would say, “Nah, I'll pass.”

In 2007, I sold my company again. It was time to retire and think about my wildest dreams, things like this book and screenwriting. However, this time I entertained a variety of offers, ranging from $3.3 million to $7.9 million. After making millions over and over in a few short years, I accepted one of the full-cash offers and repeated the Fastlane process … in 10 minutes. That's how long it took to cash the six checks that amounted to millions.

Chapter Summary