After around two months of mining craigslist in the fall of 2020, digging through dealerships up to 500 miles away, and watching every video I could on the Toyota Tacoma, then moving on to the 1st Generation Toyota Tundra, I ended up on a sweet deal due to a pricing error on the dealership’s part. After a two day hustle to Salt Lake City and back over the Halloween weekend, I had a 2006 Tundra SR5 TRD Offroad. 154k miles. I financed it, then shortly thereafter liquidated my modest roth IRA that I couldn’t afford to contribute to in any meaningful way, and paid off the truck in full. My financial advisor did not co-sign this, and I doubt you will either, but here we are.
Moving on to the topper proved to be just as difficult, as I wasn’t willing to pay nearly 1/3 of the truck’s value on a topper and roof rack system despite what the Toyota gangs of tech folks were using to leave Denver on the weekends. Wait, who am I kidding, they’re using rooftop tents that flap in the wind at night. After a similar amount of time, leaving notes on people’s windshield at the embarrassment of my ex-girlfriend, setting bot alerts, becoming a graduate of the CL and FB Marketplace school, I yet again scored a used item. Walked away with a topper (cab high unfortunately), for $600, and it had tracks, towers, and bars already mounted. I recognized the topper from a a Tundra listing, and had tried to buy the topper by itself. This person had bought the truck, and was selling the topper.
After some time on Youtube, a few phone calls with my dad, and a few hand tool purchases, I had already built a carpeted bed platform before even getting a topper, so it was a plug and play kind of day once I got the topper home after burning through a half bottle of windshield wiper fluid driving through a storm on the way to Denver. They use a lot of sand out there. Then it was the drawer. There was no carpet headliner, but I knew I wanted one to insulate the topper and soak up condensation, so I began the process of carpeting it myself. It wasn’t warm enough to apply the adhesive for the carpet, and wouldn’t be consistently until May, which was about 4-5 months away. I didn’t have a a garage or indoor space to do the job, not even a driveway, so I got an extension cord, routed it onto the street in front of my 100 year old apartment, and put a space heater in the back of my truck for many 3 hour sessions of cutting and applying, trimming, etc. carpet around the windows, on the ceiling around the bolts for the roof rack. I replaced the worn gas struts that prop open rear window. I repaired the bug screen on the sliding windows. I got two plastic bins that would house my food and clothing and trimmed the bed frame to fit them. The drawer was for running gear, my stove and cooking utensils. I made a hinged, hidden place on the cab side for some tools, a pee bottle compartment, laundry detergent. I made a second one, smaller this time, for miscellaneous this and that items. I spent another $600 on a Yakima cargo box for bulky, lightweight stuff up top. Good thing I bought it new with the warranty, because it blew open on my way back from the Grand Canyon recently. I’m lucky I didn’t cause an accident, but someone promptly stole most of the stuff that flew out within minutes before I could get turned around and retrieve my gear. All in all, about a $600 loss of backpacking gear, street clothes, and camp items for the truck. Still working on that claim with Yakima.
I walked in and out of a hardware store for about an hour trying to figure out what size my bolts were coming through the roof, and how to use hardware to hang a cargo net up there. Finally, I made something work, and ordered the cargo net. The cargo net has been an absolute necessity for jackets and clothes that come on and off in these cold high country months.
I talked with a mechanic about installing a dual battery set up, because I was going to have to move stuff in my engine bay, which is beyond me. It was more than I was willing to spend, and it was all going to be so heavy anyway. Inverter, battery, solenoid, wiring, etc. Not too complicated after some research, but very involved, and quite permanent. I took the easy route, and bought an overpriced lithium battery all-in-one “powerstation” from Jackery. The crock-pot was going to be a work thing anyway. Screw it.
Before I get too ahead of myself, originally I was making a weekend’r rig, so that I could leave after work all packed up to hit the mountains for the weekend, because doing this with a tarp proved to be about impossible on weekends, as all the roadside campsites were always jam packed. With a truck, it was a matter of pulling off to the side of a Forest Service road, and jumping in the back. Then, my girlfriend at the time got into medical school. It was a long road for her to get there, and man was it great to see her in so much joy. Congrats to her! I was hesitant to jump right into the moving away with her thing, as we had not been together quite a year yet, really just 5 months or so. So I went for a compromise in that I would live in my truck for a few months after she moved, primarily so I could save some money for the move in case I couldn’t find employment, and so I could enjoy some summer time with the mountains. I don’t ski, and winters are hard. I had not lived in Salida much more than a year, and I had to spend a lot of the money I had left to move there from TN after returning from the CDT. 5,000 miles of backpacking over two years had me running thin. The compromise didn’t go over well, and after my desperate attempt at repairing the situation down the line, she’d had enough, and decided she was going at medical school alone. I broke her heart when I didn’t agree to her plan to move with her when she was planning to leave for Utah in July, and she promptly broke mine. The relief in her disposition afterward hurt more than anything.
At this point, I was mentally committed to leaving Salida, so I didn’t know what to do with myself (I still don’t). My roommate met his dream partner, and they made plans to leave the state together. I agreed with him to end the lease early as long as the landlord was on board, and that I would simply live in my truck. I checked in with work about it, since this was the Covid era still after all, and promised to keep good hygiene while I did this. They said I could use the hot shower there, and cook in a crock pot outside (bingo), as the nature of our work could be compromised by potent smells. And nah, we don’t grow weed.
April 1 rolled around, I’d gotten my first Covid shot two days before, and I moved the last of my things into my truck. No storage unit, just a few things stored in my office at work. I sold my desk, bedside drawer system/thing that I’d had since my early years in Brooklyn, my leftover carpet from my headliner project, and some gear. The rest went for free on the curb. I finished up my reflectix for my windows as a final touch. I was left with a pretty much clear passenger seat, in order to avoid my truck looking like something I lived in and attracting thieves. My rear windows are heavily tinted, and I store my pro deal’d cooler, a plastic bin housing gear, a nice mini chair from one of those overlanding brands, and my post-run body care tools (roller, stretching strap, and a mat). I keep a jerry can and portable shower back there, too. Not satisfied with any of the table options out there, and not having much space left, I cut a custom fit HDPE plastic board and mount to create a table in my drawer, which also keeps dust out of there.
Everything else is under the topper. I own fewer things now than I ever have. About a week of clothes, and the rest is mostly running and backpacking related. I’ve been in the truck nearly a month now, and it’s mostly cold and lonely, but I’ll get to that, and to what’s next. Until then, I’ll be waking up from naps in town surrounded by turn key vans, running as much as my body will allow, hoping for a flat spot on public land, clear skies, and thanking my lucky stars that I have my second Covid shot, and that I’m finally saving some money for the first time since before the Continental Divide Trail that I hiked in 2019.
I’m writing from my bed, leaned up against the cab window on my pillow and a blanket, sleeping bag pulled to my waist. I’m parked on BLM land outside of Salida, CO, using my phone’s hotspot for internet. I can see the faint lights of the city limits about 300 feet in elevation below. I’ll run down there tomorrow in the foothills of San Isabel National Forest. The temperature has dipped below 40°F since I began typing, and my hands are now cold enough that I’m crawling into my bag to listen to an audiobook and wait for the sun to rise.
Trey French 
You are my hero.Your adventures are amazing and I would love to get in your pocket.Love you.God Bless and keep you safe.You are amazing.