About Me

Hey y’all!

My name is Lula Morton. I’m an industrial designer from Western Kentucky with an unhealthy addiction to two wheels. My interest in industrial design began with my family's passion for motorcycles and personal transportation.

Growing up around motorcycle culture exposed me to machines that beautifully blend graphic and industrial design. Heavily influenced by this environment, I was naturally drawn to the idea of designing the same streamlined vehicles I grew up admiring. In high school, I was introduced to the Transportation Modeling Challenge through the Technology Student Association (TSA), and I was instantly hooked.

I went on to place in the top ten three times in the International TSA Transportation Design/Modeling Competition. That success solidified my decision to pursue a career in design. However, I didn’t want to limit myself to just transportation. During my senior year of high school, my CAD teacher encouraged me to look into industrial design—and before graduation, I had a solid game plan.

My plan was to attend my local college, Murray State University, for prerequisites, transfer to Southern Illinois University Carbondale, and then pursue my dream career. And that’s exactly what I did. After graduation, I worked as a design apprentice at the cycling company SRAM, designing performance bicycle parts for both road and mountain bikes.

Thanks to my internship at SRAM, I landed my first full-time role at GE Appliances (a Haier company), where I became only the second person from Kentucky to lead the development of products fully conceived, engineered, and built right here in my home state. While at GE Appliances, I managed product design updates for 64 different products in the Oceania region. In addition, I led the design of the Heritage Washer Series and the Café under-counter ice maker—both of which are available on the market today.

In 2020, my life—like everyone else’s—was turned upside down. As the COVID lockdown began, I initially planned to play it safe at GE, but my friend Ashley had other ideas. She pressured me to “just apply” for a mountain bike team position at Trek Bikes. I was surprised when I got an interview—and even more surprised when I learned I was being interviewed by two teams: Helmets and MTB. Seven interviews later, I joined the helmet team.

From September 2020 to September 2025, I worked relentlessly to develop some of the best helmets and safety technologies in the world.

I take great pride in having developed products that have made—and continue to make—the world a better, safer place.

I’m always open to new opportunities to expand my design skills. By exploring new projects and subject matter, I hope to bring fresh innovation to the world of personal transportation and beyond.

Info

lulamorton6@gmail.com

Family History

I’d say I had an unconventional childhood. Very few people can sum up the most impactful years of their youth with just four letters — fortunately, I can. Those letters are GNCC. From middle school through high school, my dad, mom, brother, and I traveled across the East Coast and Appalachia, most notably to Waverly, Tennessee, to Loretta Lynn’s ranch. I spent much of that time riding in the back of a Chevy TrailBlazer, sketching from race weekend to race weekend and meeting some of the coolest people in motorsports history — Jeff Aaron, Jason Britton, Travis Pastrana, Doug Gust, William Yokley, etc.

Although we never knew William Yokley personally, he made a decision that deeply impacted our family and became a defining moment in my life — one that pointed me toward the career path I have today.

In 2006, my mom and dad responded to an ad for a Suzuki LTR450, hoping to get my mom the most ferocious race bike we would ever own. Lo and behold, we purchased the Dirt Wheels magazine bike and became a satellite team. This quad had features I haven’t seen since we owned it — features I still fantasize about today and am actively trying to recreate in my current moto builds.

Surprisingly — or perhaps unsurprisingly — the GNCC is far from where my family’s relationship with motorsports begins. Above my supermoto in my home office hangs a photo of my great-grandfather Edwin, sitting on his 1942 Harley, covered in bandages.

Moments before the photo was taken, Edwin had crashed his Harley in a back alley somewhere in the city of Akron, Ohio. From the smile on his face, you could tell he had learned nothing. Apparently, neither have I — after many years of making the same mistakes.

Much like my great-grandfather, grandparents, and parents, I look forward to one day passing the love of motorsports down to the next generation.

In 2020, thanks to my friend Ashley Booth, I took a risk I hadn’t planned on taking. I applied for the Mountain Bike position at Trek Bicycles. I got an interview — but not a second one. Instead, I was offered a second interview with the helmet team. When that came through, I just sort of shrugged and thought, “Why not? Let’s see where this goes.”

I had my second interview with the helmet designer, then a third with the project managers — then a fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh. The pressure was really mounting. Between the number of interviews, the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, and the weight of what the role represented, I started to feel overwhelmed. By the sixth interview, some past experiences were starting to haunt me — especially the enormous responsibility that comes with R&D in safety technology.When Trek extended their offer for the helmet design position, everything came to a head. The stress of the uncertain times, combined with the emotional weight of my past, brought me to a breaking point. That’s when I reached out to my friend Ilse Gort, a mentor of mine from college and in the years after.

I remember crying as we messaged back and forth. I opened up about my stepsister’s death in a quad bike accident, witnessing Peter Lenz die at the Moriwaki circuit, and unpacking how local MotoGP hero Nicky Hayden died in a cycling accident. All that trauma came pouring out, just as I stood in front of this newly opened door of responsibility. To me, accepting the role meant using my skills to make a difference — to help protect people in ways I hadn’t been able to for those I’d lost. But that realization also terrified me. What if I failed? What if someone got hurt because of something I missed — the way Sara’s helmet failed her?

Ilse helped bring me back down to earth in that overwhelmed state. I’m forever grateful for her reassurance and encouragement. Without it, I would have declined the offer — and that would have been my biggest regret. It was also a turning point in how I viewed my past. In that moment, my experiences stopped being a source of crippling trauma. They became a driving force — one that pushed me and my skills to their limits, as I grew into the role.

2021 Research Trip at Marquette MI

During my time at Trek, I worked on nearly every helmet — along with their individual components. The Solstice, Quantum, Dipper, Tyro, Velocis, Rally, Starvos, etc. There really wasn’t a helmet that I didn’t have a hand in — whether it was its development, modernization, or the ongoing refinement of details like fit pads, fit systems, or updated warning labels.

I was deeply invested in this role because of how closely because of it’s connection to my overall resolve. My dedication to R&D often went further than some others in design were willing to go. Trek had a guiding philosophy called “riding the ride” — truly placing yourself in the shoes of the person you're designing for — and that deeply resonated with my belief that empathy is the most important tool in product development.

Not every designer at Trek fully embraced riding the ride to the extent I did. For me, it wasn’t just a design principle — it was a commitment grounded in an intimate understanding of the cost of failure. Whether it came from insight or anxiety, I saw my willingness to go as far as I could to understand and protect our users as my greatest strength. I didn’t know what the designers at Bell or Fox were doing — But I’d be damned if the helmets and tech our team at Trek developed didn’t do a better job than anyone else’s.

I rode centuries, climbed mountains, broke bones, raced in competitions — anything I thought might help push our development further, or that our competitors wouldn’t have been willing to do or that they might have not thought of. As emotional as my untimely departure from Trek was, I would do it all again. In my relentless push to make the best helmets on the market, I found closure. Seeing my other stepsister Lorna’s kids wearing helmets that I developed, combined with knowing that there wasn’t a moment at Trek when I didn’t give 110%, made the untimely departure almost fulfilling. I did everything in my power, and my departure wasn’t due to my own or our team’s failures, but because of economics.

There is so much more I want to talk about — so many more memories and pressing projects — but those are currently under NDA. I really hope they come to fruition so that I can share more about my history at Trek. I am currently looking for new opportunities, and I hope to continue using my relentless drive in the development of safety technology in the cycling or motorsports industry.

If you’re interested, please check out my resume, background and feel free to reach out.

There wasn’t a single moment at Trek when I didn’t think about Sara.