Alexis DeJoria remembers exactly where she was on June 23, 2024, a moment she would rather forget. Sitting next in line to race at Virginia Motorsports Park, she watched as John Force—her hero, competitor, and the man who signed her license—was injured in a crash that left him with a traumatic brain injury.
Another date is etched just as deeply, but for different reasons. On Dec. 2, 2025, DeJoria became the first female driver hired by John Force Racing without carrying the Force name, a milestone that reshaped her career and the team’s future.
For DeJoria, the opportunity represented more than a new seat or a new uniform. It marked a moment she never allowed herself to fully imagine, even after years racing alongside the sport’s most accomplished Funny Car driver.
“This was definitely a dream come true,” DeJoria said. “It would’ve been just a dream, really. I’d have been like, ‘Wait, what? Nuh-uh. He’s got all these girls. He’s got all his daughters. He doesn’t need another one.’”
The weight of the decision, she said, goes beyond the novelty of the hire. It reframes both her past and her future in the sport.
“This is the most important move I’ll ever make in my entire career,” DeJoria said. “And this season coming up is the most important season I’ll ever have in my career, for sure.”
Force’s relationship with DeJoria has always carried familiarity, even if it has rarely been formal. Their history stretches back through competition, crashes, and shared moments that blurred the line between rival and mentor.
“As long as he doesn’t call me that Elvira girl like he did years ago when we were battling it out,” DeJoria said, laughing. “I’ll take DeJoria. That’s good enough for me.”
The nickname, she explained, came from Force struggling to remember her name early in her career. It became a small but lasting reminder of how long the two have been crossing paths.
“I think Elvira was pretty hot, but I don’t think he could remember my name, so he just went off of looks,” DeJoria said. “Back then, I did have the black hair, so I get it.”
Her addition to the lineup also reflects a broader shift inside the organization. John Force Racing, long defined by family continuity, is entering a period of visible change.
“This year’s a new era for John Force Racing,” DeJoria said. “There’s four new faces coming in. Jordan Vandergriff. Me. Josh Hart. It’s completely different, and honestly, I think it’s awesome.”
Despite the magnitude of the move, DeJoria said it was never something she chased. In fact, she said the idea of leaving her previous situation ran counter to how she approaches her career.
She said she never intended to become what she called a “team jumper,” and the move unfolded more through circumstance than ambition.
“The conversation with Force did start over a year ago,” DeJoria said. “It wasn’t me knocking on his door. It was casually discussed among crew chiefs, like, ‘What about Alexis?’”
Those early discussions stalled following Force’s crash at Virginia. At the time, DeJoria said, the priority was recovery and clarity rather than expansion.
“They were like, ‘You’d fit in perfectly, but right now he’s not ready,’” she said. “He had just had his accident and wasn’t 100% there.”
When talks resumed months later, DeJoria found herself weighing loyalty against opportunity. The answer, she said, was obvious, even if the decision was not easy.
“When John Force asks you if you want to drive a Funny Car on his team, you do it,” DeJoria said. “If I said no, I’d be an idiot, and Daddy didn’t raise no fool.”
Even then, she made one thing clear from the start. Any move forward had to include the people who brought her to that moment.
“I said, ‘I’m not going without my team,’” DeJoria said. “People were like, ‘Oh, Alexis is just going to jump ship and f*** her whole team.’ No, dude. I wouldn’t do that. I’m loyal to a fault.”
That stance carried particular importance when it came to crew chief Mike Neff. DeJoria said their working relationship was foundational, not optional.
“If Mike Neff didn’t come, that would’ve been another conversation,” she said. “We work really well together, and that’s imperative.”
Her bond with Force, however, predates contracts and crew rosters. It was forged in moments of vulnerability, beginning with one of the most violent crashes of her career.
“When I had my first wreck down in Englishtown, John Force and Melanie Troxel were the first people on the scene,” DeJoria said. “He was the one that convinced me to get in the ambulance.”
Force’s words that day resurfaced years later in Virginia. What once felt like cautionary advice became an unsettling echo.
“You might feel fine on the outside, but you have no idea if you have internal bleeding,” DeJoria recalled him saying. “It’s pretty profound, thinking about it now.”
Watching Force’s 2024 accident unfold while strapped into her own Funny Car was one of the hardest moments of her career. She said the silence that followed was haunting.
“I seriously thought that we lost him that day,” DeJoria said. “When they shut the screens off, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.”
Seeing Force move again brought relief, but also perspective. The emotional swing reinforced how quickly everything can change.
“Thinking you just lost the greatest Funny Car driver in the history of the sport—your hero—was brutal,” she said. “Luckily, our cars have gotten a lot safer over the years.”
Her first walk through the John Force Racing shop in Brownsburg carried its own weight. DeJoria said the scale and history of the operation were immediately apparent.
“It was a pinch-me moment,” she said. “Funny Car after Funny Car, bodies from John, Ashley, Courtney—it was incredible.”
The visit included a stop at the Eric Medlen tribute, a moment DeJoria described as sobering. It underscored the cost of success at the highest level.
“There’s so much blood, sweat, and tears there,” DeJoria said. “To be a part of that organization, I feel truly blessed. But I earned it. I earned it.”
With that opportunity comes expectation. DeJoria said the pressure is unavoidable and fully understood.
“There’s an added amount of pressure,” she said. “Everyone’s looking in going, ‘All right, girl, what are you going to do with this?’”
The equipment now at her disposal leaves little room for excuses. DeJoria acknowledged the difference immediately.
“If they want something made, they just go and make it,” she said. “A single-car team does not have access to that.”
After years of close calls, injuries, and frustration, DeJoria believes the timing is finally right. The goal, she said, is no longer abstract.
“I haven’t won a race for a while,” she said. “It’s time. I’m ready to win. I’m ready to take that next step.”
Testing is the next checkpoint, and while she is eager, she remains measured. The focus, she said, is on execution.
“It’s all about that first run,” DeJoria said. “These cars just shoot and point. They’re easier to drive.”
Looking back, DeJoria does not see the move as a restart. Instead, she views it as the result of persistence.
“I dig and dig and persevere and not give up,” she said. “I made it to this point, and I’m pretty d*** proud of myself.”
For a driver who once watched John Force sign her license—and later feared she had witnessed his final run—joining his team completes a long, improbable circle.
“When John Force asks you if you want to do this,” DeJoria said, “you say yes.”
