Vehicles are tools for adventure, and our editors use them constantly to support our love of the outdoors and gear testing. Outdoor pursuits take time and energy. While they fuel the soul, they often empty the proverbial piggy bank. What that equates to, more often than not, is having a vehicle that is old, “well-loved,” and often costs less than the outdoor gear in or on it.
Vehicles are one of the largest purchases in life. It’s important to find a balance between the tool that fits our lifestyle goals and the one that also leaves us with enough money for travel and gear.
Our motley crew of seasoned outdoor adventurers at GearJunkie have quite the collection of adventuremobiles. Some beaters, many less so, but all have epic stories to tell.
GearJunkie Editorial Staff Vehicles
Let’s dive into the vehicles — and stories behind them — that the GearJunkie team uses for our adventures.
2010 Ford F-150 FX4: Sean McCoy, AllGear Editorial Director
Sure, Jolene is 15 years old. But she’s still the nicest truck I’ve ever owned. I bought this beautiful V8-powered F-150 in 2018. At the time, it had just 8,000 miles on the odometer. Call it dumb luck, but once I saw the deal, I signed on the line immediately.
Today, she’s pushing 80,000 miles and is filled with more adventures, love, and laughs than I imagined you could fit in a truck bed.
Piloted by my wife, it crewed me during the Leadville 100. It’s been on probably 100 hunts, from South Dakota to Nebraska to Colorado. It rolled through Wyoming on the way to climb Devils Tower. And the tires — now on a new pair of 33-inch Nokian Outpost nATs — have held tight on thousands of miles of snow-covered highways and trails.
The bed has carried skis, guns, backpacks, camping gear, recovery kits, and dogs. It housed my wife, dog, and me, sleeping on a Hest mattress, on frigid spring mornings and balmy summer nights when mosquitos pecked at the topper, we were snug inside the impenetrable fortress of fiberglass.
It’s a simple truck, mostly stock, with a 2.5-inch leveling kit to fit 33-inch tires. It has a topper, a Decked bed storage system, and a very cool emblem of a German shorthaired pointer on the tailgate. It has a 6.5-foot bed, a non-negotiable must-have, which is tall enough for me and my wife to sleep in comfortably.
That’s it. It’s a reliable, modular system that can tackle any adventure I can imagine. And so far, it’s been rock-solid reliable. My only gripe is some pretty bad gas mileage. But it’ll tow anything I want, and I’m willing to pay a gas penalty for the larger tires.
What else would I want in a truck? Not much. But I guess a backup camera would be nice. Check back with me in another decade.
2001 Mazda B4000 ‘Wanda White’: Adam Ruggiero, Editor-in-Chief
I’ve owned one vehicle my whole life, and if I play my hand right, that might not change.
I bought Wanda White — a 2001 Mazda B4000 that’s a fraternal twin to the Ford Ranger — a few years after high school. Listed as a used “North Dakota farm truck” in an old print classified ad, the truck had just 35,000 miles on it when I drove it off the lot, title in hand, for $10,000.
Twenty-three years later, Wanda’s dial only recently turned past 100,000 miles. To put it bluntly, I bike, run, and walk a lot. For the most part, I only drive for long road trips or when cargo needs demand it.
In my eyes, the old mid-size trucks were near-perfect designs for daily life — enough muscle to haul a full bed (I once carried most of a felled and logged oak tree — not within payload limits), but still small and nimble enough to park where most cars fit.
But Wanda went from brick house to bombshell when topped off with a rooftop tent (check out the full review). Were it not for the tent, I probably wouldn’t have reached 100K miles by now, but truck camping unlocked so many adventures. It also kept me a safe height above a bear that once ambled into camp while I slept.
But for all the rugged adventure this Mazda can tackle, it’s shined most for long, sultry summer nights in the country with friends at the drive-in. Park in back, pop the tent, and set up drinks and snacks in the bed. Fun ain’t hard.
Wanda remains mostly stock, minus some upgraded BFGoodrich KO2 treads. She runs a 4.0L V6 with fewer horsepower than the Kentucky Derby. But the truck is not about going fast or roaring up mountain roads (I’ve learned to stay right) — it’s a tool and a companion for adventure. And, most importantly, a simple one at that.
The truck won’t beep at me when I parallel park, and it won’t snag the wheel when I change lanes. It doesn’t have an infotainment screen or Bluetooth. It’s just a truck, and a damn good one at that.
2011 Toyota Tundra ‘Ted Tundy’: Rachelle Schrute, Hunt/Fish Editor
There are moments in life you don’t see coming, the kind that shifts the course of your existence in ways you wouldn’t have chosen but later wouldn’t trade for anything. The day I met Ted Tundy was one of those moments.
Now, I didn’t choose Ted. In fact, I wasn’t even looking for a truck. I had a perfectly good rig. That is, until someone did their best impression of a demolition derby contestant and totaled it while it was parked on Main Street in Bozeman, Mont. And because the universe has a wicked sense of humor, this all happened during the great truck shortage.
So there I was, stranded and in need of a vehicle, staring at essentially the only truck available on the lot: a cherry red 2011 Toyota Tundra double cab, covered in more scratches than paint. This was a ranch truck, beaten and worked hard, traded in, and left behind.
Ted would never have been my first pick, but he was the only option. So, like a cowboy in a bad romance novel, I swung my leg over the saddle and rode off into the sunset with him. It’s been a cheesy love story ever since.
At first, our relationship was based purely on necessity. He had four-wheel drive, he could haul, and he got me from point A to point B. Over time, though, Ted Tundy became more than just a truck.
He became my trusty sidekick, bouncing down endless backroads, rattling across rugged hunting trails, and carrying more gear than I can even remember. He’s been there for early-morning fishing trips, late-night deer hauls, and more than a few questionable roadside repairs.
He’s hauled bird dogs and hound dogs, and he’s had floor mats covered in blood, mud, and everything in between.
These days, the accessories strapped to him have a higher price tag than his Blue Book Value, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s had everything from a makeshift cot under a mismatched topper to a $20,000+ custom setup in his bed. He’s tested pretty near more gear than I have, if we’re being honest.
Plus, it’s tough to scratch a scratch, and it’s hard to dent a dent.
He’s got personality. He’s got character. And he’s the raddest truck on the road. I dare anyone to tell me otherwise.
Ted might not have been the truck I wanted, but he sure as hell turned out to be the truck I needed.
2019 Toyota Tacoma: Will Brendza, Camp/Hike/Ski Editor
For the better part of 6 years now, my trusty Toyota Taco has been my home away from home. Literally. This is my second apartment, and I sleep in the bed of this beauty close to 3 nights a week through the spring, summer, and fall.
I keep camping gear stored inside just in case I decide to make an impromptu stop somewhere beyond the buzz of civilization. Throughout the winter, she carries everything I need to ski inbounds or out at a moment’s notice.
We’ve had too many good times to count — venturing across state lines on long mountain bike road trips, crawling up red rock roads in the desert, and chasing winter storms all around Colorado.
We’ve had a few bad times, too. Like when a podunk gas station in Wyoming poisoned my tank with some ungodly mixture of water, oil, diesel, and gas, and we broke down in the middle of nowhere, without cell service, beside a lone home on the prairie whose owner waved a gun at me from his porch when I tried to approach and ask about using his phone.
Yes, we’ve been through a lot together. 110,000 miles may just be a number, but to me and my Taco, it’s a catalog of the adventures we’ve been on and the distances we’ve traveled together. She’s still far from being classified as a “beater,” but she’s surely gaining some character with age.
This Taco was my first truck and will always hold a special place in my heart — even after our paths someday diverge, and I have to say what will certainly be an emotional goodbye. That day is still a long way off, though, and I can’t wait for all of the good (and even bad) days we spend together between now and then.
She’s my dusty trail companion and the magic carpet that’s delivered me safely home through some truly heinous conditions.
I owe a lot to this truck.
Chevrolet Captiva: Andrew McLemore, Senior Writer
Choosing an “adventure vehicle” is a different proposition when you’re traveling through Latin America.
While living in Medellin, Colombia, in 2023, I decided to make a road trip across South America with my girlfriend. While I initially dreamed about getting a 4×4, and doing some righteous offroading in the Andes, the realities of traveling across the continent quickly changed my priorities.
What I really needed was simply a vehicle that had plenty of space for gear and sleeping — and could be repaired almost anywhere if it broke down. That led me to purchase a used Chevrolet Captiva.
Now, I’m not a huge fan of SUVs. The Captiva doesn’t have great mileage, and it’s about as maneuverable as an octogenarian with hip problems.
But the price was right and Chevy parts are abundant down south, so I took the chance. Ultimately, my girlfriend and I drove it across Colombia, Ecuador, and Peru, arriving in Lima after several thousand miles and many unforgettable adventures. For me, the quality of an “adventure vehicle” boils down to the experiences it enables, and this mediocre Chevy took us everywhere we wanted to go.
Yes, the air conditioning broke right before we entered the vast wasteland of northern Peru’s coastal desert. Yes, the engine barely managed to carry us over the massive mountains of the Cordillera Blanca. And yes, one of the doors stopped working halfway through the trip.
But it’s because of this cheap beater that I had some of the most unique experiences of my life. My girlfriend and I spent Christmas with an Indigenous Peruvian family after ferrying half of them across the mountains to their village. On the way back, they even threw a slaughtered pig in the trunk.
The Captiva took us to deserted beaches, roadside climbing walls, and remote pueblos. It kept us safe through the endlessly winding roads of Colombia’s mountains and the muddy, rocky trails of backcountry Peru.
On the trip back to Medellin, we had to cross Ecuador while the country was in a “state of emergency” following violence from drug cartels. Border officials gave us 5 days to cross through the country or face vague consequences. We made it across in 3 days — no problem.
Discreet, spacious, and (mostly) reliable, the Captiva wasn’t what I wanted. But it turned out to be exactly what I needed.
KTM 990 ADV Baja Edition ‘Chad’: Seiji Ishii, Climb/ Bike/ Fitness/ Powersports/ Travel Editor
This bike made a decade-long virtuous circle: a story of brotherhood, friendship, perseverance, and carrying on.
I got this bike the year it came out, and I was writing for fun. It was my first published piece in print since the ’90s, a no-holds-barred project bike for Dirt Rider magazine when it was still going to my mailbox. It was cobbled together entirely from industry friends that included Rottweiler Performance, Yoshimura, Rekluse, Scott Steering Stabilizers, BRP, Seat Concepts, and a host of others.
My full-time client at the time, Andrew Short, built an identical bike, and we had a few incredible adventure rides in Colorado and New Mexico. It was my dream adventure bike. I didn’t want to change a thing.
Fast forward to 2018, and I had a life-altering crash aboard the KTM ADV 990, which ultimately led to 10 procedures to my obliterated knee. Two consecutive staph infections and a divorce during my recovery triggered long-repressed mental health issues. In the end, I was placed under suicide detention twice and have since been in therapy and under other related professional care.
During my divorce, the financial burden was suffocating and incredibly stressful. My leg was not yet functional, and I couldn’t do most of my work. Another close moto buddy offered to buy the bike for much more than it was worth. I took it as a way of helping me without making me feel like a charity. He was much taller and heavier than me, so with more industry help, I heavily modified the bike so it would work well for him.
We had a few glorious trips together, and I beamed with pride watching him ride “my” bike. But sadly, a short time later, he died of a heart attack at a very young age. The last thing he did before passing was an 80-mile ride aboard this bike.
The loss was so sudden and shocking. I lost what I know now was a father figure. But I took some solace knowing that he was in “his place, doing his thing” aboard a bike that I built for him.
The bike was willed to his cousin, whom I also knew. I again took some peace knowing that the bike would carry on in his name through his family. A decade after I first turned a wrench on the bike, I got a text that I’ll never forget. The bike was coming home. The family wanted me to have it back. I was floored at the generosity and thoughtfulness of the gesture. I still am.
Every time I see or ride the bike, I think of Chad and feel grateful for all the wisdom that he passed down to me. He was much younger than me, but so much more worldly, mature, and successful in the business world.
He was also my connection to the “others” — people on the opposite side of the spectrum politically, financially, and socially. Chad befriending me so long ago goes against all the societal pressures we both felt. That is a gift that will forever pay dividends.
So, here’s to Chad, the human, and Chad, the bike. It’s not just a bike. And to both: Ride On.
2013 Lexus GX 460: Bryon Dorr, Motors/Camper & RV Editor
While far from a beater, my 2013 Lexus GX460 has plenty of scars and tales to tell. I purchased it in early 2019, built it out for overland adventures, and debuted it at The SEMA Show that same year. It even managed a Top 10 Overland Vehicle Award at the show.
Since then, the rig has seen tens of thousands of on-road miles all across the U.S. and Canada. Most of the memories created in it, however, have been from the 1,000+ miles each year the vehicle travels off the pavement.
Highlights include Death Valley explorations, Imogene Pass with my 3-month-old daughter, exploring snowy trails around Mt. Hood, the Washington BDR, and the many fun adventures on the Columbia Sea to Source Landroamer Collection project.
One of the best parts of this build is the custom roof rack that can haul lots of kayaks, bikes, and skis. The custom Goose Gear drawer system and sleep platform help me keep gear organized and secure while offering a flat place to get a good night’s sleep and a mount for my 12V fridge on a drop slide.
Capability-wise, the GX rolls on 34-inch all-terrain tires, has a custom IVD suspension system, has custom rock sliders and a custom winch bumper, has been regeared, has air-lockers at both ends, and so much more.
By far, the most used and important upgrade on this vehicle is the scheel-mann touring seats, as they allow me to travel long distances in comfort — even with my busted-up back (I broke it in a kayak going off a ramp over a decade ago).
Between grand road trip adventures, my GX is mainly relegated to daily driver duty, which at 14 mpg with premium fuel, isn’t the most economical or environmentally friendly. Luckily, press cars for review and my wife’s Ioniq 5 EV see most of the around-town miles.
But, on weekends, this machine is the way my family gets to the slopes, trailheads, put-ins, and beaches. Adventure is calling, and this ridiculously reliable machine is always ready to go.
I keep thinking about replacing it, but then realize there isn’t anything better suited to my adventure lifestyle that wouldn’t cost me tens of thousands more. And, I’d rather spend that money actually adventuring outside and around the globe.
Read the full article here
