I’m on Tacoma number 5 or 6. I’m not sure exactly how many I’ve had over the years I’m sure if I counted backwards over the last 30 years I could figure it out but man I love a Tacoma pickup. Ever since I watched Back to the Future when I was a kid I discovered Marty McFly and I had the same taste in trucks. I wanted the same Toyota pickup he had. I wasn’t even old enough to drive yet but I was getting there.

I also love a good jeep. My car purchases intertwined between wranglers and Tacomas most of my adult life. Throw in one Camry when I used to travel for work.

I was in my late 20s when I got my first one, black 4 door (black has always been my color for Tacomas. My dumbass traded it in for a Rubicon on a whim while hangin at Myrtle beach. Obviously I’ve always had a problem with my compulsions but I held onto that jeep for 26k miles and three check engine lights before abruptly pulling of exit 40 on I-85 to Toyota of Easley and getting another Tacoma.

Has to be a 4 door

Has to be a long bed

Black or gray

I’ve done that three more times. Wrangler-> Tacoma

Life’s short y’all

Car payments are bad financial decisions but then so is taking your car to a mechanic once a month or losing your job due to car breakdowns. I’ve experienced both.

I’m not a mechanic in fact I’m quite the opposite. I could change an oil filter when I was a teenager but I haven’t done that in 30 years. Nor do I wish to ever again. Mechanics is not my thing. I wish it was because I enjoy cars. I appreciate their value but don’t even like changing a battery. I can do some pretty neat things with a 8in chef knife but wrenches confound me.

I buy Tacomas for a few reasons. Obviously number one they are dependable. One of the best. Pricing is affordable usually. I don’t need a big truck the only thing I’m hauling is charcuterie and my camping trailer. Great size for me. Long bed is needed because I use mine like a spare bedroom. Not that I’m a doomsday guy but if the shit hit the fan and we had to head to hills (I’m assuming everyone means Appalachia when they say that around these parts and not Paris mountain) I’m in a lot better shape than most of you. Well except for gas mileage. Tacomas are terrible for gas mileage especially when you keep a decent payload of rei purchases permanently stored in back. Pulling a trailer I’ll get 10mpg downhill. Gets pricy driving to Utah and back.

My camping has evolved quite a bit over the years. Overlanding is quite the craze. I’m sort of into it but at the same time I scoff at how ridiculously expensive it can be. I caught the bug while I was constantly driving up to the gorge. I’d drive 2 plus hours, do a ridiculously long trail run and then head back home. My legs and back would cramp up on the drive back home. If I had a truck I’d pull off the parkway and I’d lie down with the tailgate down and stretch or just watch the tree line. For a moment I’d be at peace and then continue my way back home.

2019 I bought another Tacoma but I had them install a camper shell. I was hell bent on steeping up my trail running and camping game. The day I got my ARE shell I immediately threw an old futon mattress over a little wooden platform I built, sleeping bag and a pillow and that was my setup that year. I’d throw a cooler in the back with a bottle of vodka, lime, gallon jug of water and drive up the mountain. I had an overlander app that had caused me to put in the wrong coordinates and I came upon what is now my go to for overnight camping in the gorge. I didn’t bring a camping chair with me at that time. I’d prop my little cooler up on my tailgate, pour a tall glass of vodka on the rocks, squeeze a lime into it and watch the sun go down. I’d have some Isbell playing on my Bluetooth and I’d melt into my seat with a drunken smile on my face. When I could barely hold myself together I’d roll up the tailgate and close shop in my little camper bed and essentially pass out.

Aside from the murky moments and embarrassing secret hangovers I enjoyed these moments. They put my soul at ease. It would take a few years for me to realize the vodka wasn’t needed for my zen.

Lucidity was my goal. It took time for me to attain it

I fell in love with that tailgate ambiance. I’d perch with my legs crossed, cup in hand and watch the horizon. Breezy nights I’d watch the tree line dance. Weather when you’re camping on a ridge of a mountain can be unpredictable but I always felt safe in my truck bed. Like nothing could hurt me. My little safe place in the middle of nowhere. It’s probably why when I travel I can pull into most any shady old gas station and still sleep. I feel safe. Also I’m prepared. God help the first asshole that ruins that moment.

My first real adventure was 2020 when I took my first trip to Maine. My first pullover for the night was a small gas station in Virginia. I sat on my tailgate listening to Tyler Childers, my favorite blanket over my shoulders and watched the big rigs slowly roll down the mountain side. My first two nights I camped rather illegally in a little retirement parking lot that sat in a neighborhood in Bar Harbor. No one even noticed me. To them I was just a dude chilling on his tailgate with an illegal smile on his face.

I’d get up in the mornings and drive up to Cadillac mtn and watch the sunrise. I’d back my truck up by an inlet and watch the sun go down while I had a lobster roll crumbs in my lap. One morning I fixed some bacon and eggs on my tailgate while I watched the tide roll in.

Food just tastes better when you’re cooking outdoors.

Coffee is better

It could 100% be that my brain is dancing when I’m camping.

I bought a burrito from a food truck in Delaware. Sat on my tailgate in a Publix parking lot. Devoured that burrito and went to bed for the night. Love that vagabond life.

I hit Colorado two weeks later in that truck. It was fall so I added a few old throw pillows to insulate the windows and another blanket.

Durango was on my mind so I spent two days driving to Colorado and spent a night on my tailgate in a vacant lot outside of Oklahoma City while the wind made my truck swing back and forth like a sailboat. Spent a night in a train yard while eating homemade pork tacos watching the Durango nightlife. Always ate my lunches on my tailgate. I’d sit in public parks under a tree, read whatever book I had lying in my truck bed with a steady southern Colorado winds. The smell of pine all around me. Spent some time in that park with tears in my eyes when I read that a friend of mine had died in a car accident that morning. First time I cried on that tailgate. There would be many more.

Spent the evening on that tailgate warming my feet over an open fire pit in Ouray. Yellow aspens shading me while I cooked steak and eggs for dinner. Watching a bull elk grazing 10 feet away.

Pulled over outside of Moab and enjoyed my first cold Pepsi and junior mints in probably 8 years. I gave up soda 100 years ago but that was always my mother’s and I go to when we would to walk to the gas station in Piedmont. She was still around at this time and just on my mind so I took a moment to enjoy the vibe. Feet dangling over a roadside cliff with junior mint chocolate stuck to my fingers. It was hot but I didn’t care. Man what a moment.

Spent that night high on gummies and a warm tummy of vodka, in a gas station lot off of I-70 watching a beautiful sunset passing over Utah.

Drove through Leadville, ate an old saloon and took on Mt Ebert. A healthy 14er hike. Took a nap on my tailgate and headed east to Buena Vista. Shared a parking lot with a vanlifer and had a good conversation. It would seem we were both running away from a few things at that time. I failed to mention I was unemployed at the time. Had I been single there was a good chance I’d still be sitting on that tailgate somewhere in Colorado. I would’ve left everything behind here. I wanted to hold on to that moment for good. My mind aside from the glory of the Rockies was a tangled mess of shit.

It got down to 25° that night. I sat on my tailgate with my blanket wrapped around my shoulders. I didn’t feel a thing while I watched the Colorado sunset over the Rockies. That would be the second time I cried on that trip.

Hiked the Manitou the next day and headed back home east.

Shared my tailgate for 10 days with my daughter on a cross country trip in 2021. She’d sit on the tailgate while I cooked her grilled cheeses in South Dakota. She’d nap in my truck after our hikes in Colorado. We shared turkey and cheese sandwiches in Yellowstone. Obviously I was much more selective on my spots while I had her with me.

The next year I’d take that same truck back down that southern route and roost in Sedona for a few days. Camped for free in a little lot covered with Junipers by a little creek all week. I was 60 days sober then. I’d spend my nights sitting sideways on my tailgate rereading an old Stephen King novel and listen to the creek. I’d hike and park in the shade of the red rocks while I napped. Ate a half dozen donuts on my tailgate while I waited for a gate to open for a long hike. Sugar was my release when I stopped drinking. Sat on that tailgate with a belly full of enchiladas and commented out loud “yeah I think I’m done”. I was done with drinking. Sedona made me appreciate being present. I always associated drinking with camping. Didn’t think I could pull it off. I give the Sedona vortex the credit it deserves. The natural high I experienced there made me realize I didn’t need a chemical to retain my happiness.

My camping has evolved quite a bit over the years. I’ve added a rooftop penthouse to my set up. Bought a little scout trailer with an awning and secured storage for long trips. I can cook for 20 pple with my kitchen set up, portable propane tanks, extra blankets, tons of gear. Listen I love it all. It brings me joy camping is my passion. Sitting outside under the stars is what I’m here for. There’s just something about the methodical motions you have to go through when setting up camp, building your own fire, cooking your own food from scratch and boiling your own coffee that makes me life worth living. It’s my ultimate uncomfortable comfort zone and no one can take that from me.

I’m wrestling with the idea of going back old school on my next trip whenever that may be. Would seem a waste of gear not to employ all of my fun camping thingies but there’s just something calming about that tailgate. I even made two camping set ups. My tailgate one being my “express” option Don’t get me wrong.

Don’t get me wrong I love both but the simplicity and stealth I enjoy the most. I feel more at ease tramping along but I like having a well established set up for comfort. I guess there are a worse things to deal with in life. Sure I can sit on my tailgate in any of these scenarios but it just ain’t the same.