Before we ever owned a camper, we were kids falling in love with adventure from the back seat. These wild, hilarious, and unforgettable memories will take you straight back to the spark that started it all—your childhood memories.

Do you remember your very first camping trip? Maybe you were just a kid, packed into the back seat alongside a pile of sleeping bags and snacks, buzzing with excitement for the adventure ahead. For many Truck Camper Magazine readers, those early trips planted the seeds for a lifetime of outdoor exploration—and eventually led them straight to the driver’s seat of a truck camper.

It didn’t matter if the camper was big or small, fancy or basic. What mattered were the simple joys: campfires crackling under the stars, the smell of breakfast sizzling on a camp stove, and the thrill of waking up somewhere new with nothing but nature outside your door. These moments stuck with us, turning into cherished memories and shaping the way we see adventure today.

In this special article, we asked our readers to dig into their childhood and share their earliest truck camping memories—and wow, did they deliver! The stories that came in are packed with nostalgia, a few good laughs, and more than a little wisdom earned the old-fashioned way. From ice-cold mornings bundled in blankets to muddy roads that taught early lessons in four-wheel drive, these experiences helped turn wide-eyed kids into lifelong truck campers.

So grab a cup of coffee, settle in, and get ready to relive those early days of camping magic. You might just be surprised at how much your own story sounds like theirs.

Tom Frew

“Wow, where to start? My parents bought a brand new 1966 Travel Queen truck camper and a 1966 Chevy truck to carry it on. I was 13, and my brother, parents, and I camped, explored, and gathered tons of memories in that camper over the years.

We grew up in Denver, Colorado, and explored all over Colorado, Wyoming, the Pacific Northwest, and Northern California in that rig. I fondly remember the smell of the propane lantern built into the cabinet near the stove as dad put new silk mantles in it, mom’s cooking, and the coziness of the warm wood paneling.

I learned to drive that beast when I was sixteen. I remember coming home one time from Oregon and—between Burley, Idaho, and Tremonton, Utah—we had a blowout. There was no wreck, but it scared me badly!

My wife and I have been married for 48 years now. We’ve owned several truck campers over that time. We usually have some sort of trailer to pull for a boat, ATV, or kayaks. We have considered a bumper pull, but the conveniences and maneuverability of truck campers have always won out.

Our kids have maintained the love of camping through our love of truck campers. They do not have campers yet but will undoubtedly buy truck campers when they can.”

Bruce Moses

“In 1962, my parents took my brother, sister, and me to the Seattle World Fair in my grandparents’ truck and camper. I would have been almost ten years old. We camped in a campground outside of Seattle and were bused into the fair. This was the first time we camped without a tent. It was not the last, but this was the start of many RV adventures.

Our children and grandchildren have spent many years truck camping. Now they have their own truck camper and we camp together whenever we can. Some of our best memories involve truck camping.”

Susie R.

“I was four years old, having truck camping adventures of a lifetime. Dad raced motorcycles on weekends and owned a Cycle Shop in Washingtonville, New York. Mom and Dad would ride in the standard cab, bench seat of our C20 pickup truck, while all four kids rode in the camper on the back. My fondest memory is when all of us would jump up on the bed and watch out the front window of the overhead bunk as we traveled down the road.

Later in life, we started camping in travel trailers, but realized we needed the flexibility of not towing, going anywhere a 4×4 can, and the ability to carry a motorcycle on the front of our rig. Our current rig is a 2013 Silverado 3500HD DRW paired with a 2008 Lance 1191.

When we graduated to empty-nesters, we downsized from a travel trailer to a truck camper. The first question from our grown adult kids was where they would be sleeping? Little did they know. Since then, our kids camp with us in their own truck-tents, and we have taken our son and nephew both on winter ski-camping trips with the truck camper.”

Gary Ketelsen

“My earliest memory was when I was approximately five years old. I remember going with my father to the camper factory and sitting in the cabover of the new pickup camper when it was just finishing up from being built. It was such an exciting time! But wow, that was 62 years ago!

After that, every trip growing up was in a pickup camper. The best memories from over the years were going to the Dreamer Camper Rallies. Every year, we caravanned with a group of Dreamer campers to go to the national rallies. We would go from Iowa to places like Wyoming, South Carolina, Kentucky, Colorado, and Kansas.

It’s been our life. I continued traveling with my wife and kids and am still going down the road today. We’re in a different type of RV now, but we remain truck campers at heart!

Our kids are raised now and have families of their own. And yes, they are still camping and traveling as well. The types of RVs that they travel in have changed, but one of the Dreamer Campers from 1965 is still with us today—and still like new!”

Mort Kissell

“In the early 1970s, we were newbies to California with a brand new Datsun pickup truck. I saw pickup trucks all over with cabover campers—1,000 times more of them than we ever saw in Illinois.

We went to an RV show and saw Perris Valley Campers. They made campers for my truck with a King-size bed. We made a deal to build one for us for $1,400. This was a big jump from tent camping in the Boy Scouts. Over the next eight years, we hit most of the state parks in California with that rig.”

Melissa Malejko

“My parents bought a truck camper when I was very, very young, and my first ever camping trip—at less than 6 months old—involved me apparently rolling out of the cabover onto the bench and then the floor. My Dad tells the story of trying to find me on the floor in the complete and total darkness. The cabover had sliding doors, so why they didn’t close them to prevent me from rolling out, I will never know.

I have a huge number of memories wrapped around that truck and camper. We did a lot of camping, boating, fishing, waterskiing, kneeboarding, and tubing. I was quite sad when they sold it for a motorhome when I was 14. We still went camping, but it wasn’t the same kind of experience for me.

I don’t think I can specifically pinpoint what about the truck camper was foundational, but it absolutely shaped my life. I remember trips for family reunions and music festivals. At one music festival, I had a stomach bug and spent a very hot weekend in the cabover or puking in the camper’s toilet—not fun. There were also trips with just the truck when we got 500 pounds of sausage from my Dad’s butcher friend, helping people move, and even how my Dad changed where the truck was parked on the street so we couldn’t toboggan from the front lawn and down the street in the winter.

My husband and I bought a camper first. We ended up choosing the same brand of camper I grew up in. It’s one year older, and a little smaller, but it’s fine for our family. I was about five months pregnant when we bought the camper. I gave birth about three weeks after we bought the truck. Our daughter spent her first night in the camper (in our backyard) when she was three months old. Her first real camping trip was at a similar age to mine, but we make sure to close the cabover sliding doors and she’s never fallen out of the cabover!”

Susan Visconti

“My dad had a truck camper that we used to travel in from upstate New York to Florida in February. I was the oldest—a teenager—with three sisters and a brother. It was so much fun lying in the cabover, waving to cars as we went down the road and listening to a transistor radio.

We would leave early in the morning and pull into a campground when it was dark. I remember one time where sounds all night of scary creatures as my dad opened the camper door. It seemed like we were in a foreign country. This was in the 1970s. I don’t know where everybody slept, but I remember my mom spraying foot spray on our feet.

Over time, my dad got rid of the truck camper, bought a travel trailer and, before he passed, had a Class C motorhome that we would camp in Rhode Island near the beaches.

For me, it was the totality of the experience—traveling and seeing new places. When we’d go to Florida, we would visit my grandparents and also Disney World. Since my dad was not a big fan of his in-laws, he would stay in the RV, and my mom would stay with her parents in their house. I thought it was cool to be so self-contained, and it felt safe.”

Jack Schidlmeier

“In 1972, at the age of 24, which I now consider childhood at the age of 83, I was on active duty in the U.S. Coast Guard. I was given orders to Kodiak, Alaska as a flight engineer on HU-16 Albatross (amphibious flying boats) and Sikorsky HH-52 (amphibious helicopters) for search and rescue. This was to be a two-year tour of duty.

I purchased a 1968 GMC three-quarter ton pickup truck and a Wolverine 10 foot truck camper—the best made at this time. I made the 3,500 mile journey in April in the snow and -15 Fahrenheit while the permafrost was solid on the unpaved Alcan Highway.

I hit the road to move from sunny and warm Mobile, Alabama to subzero Alaska with my two toddlers and had quite the initiation in winter truck camping. It took about three weeks to get there due to the lack of interstate highways, bad weather, and mechanical problems.

Later in life, I continued camping alongside my passion for motorcycle racing—off-road Hare Scrambles, Enduros, dirt track, and even ice racing. I camped wherever the races took me, mostly in the national forests. The running joke at Coast Guard headquarters was that they kept transferring me just so I could race, while I was busy flying and maintaining engines on all the search and rescue aircraft.

Over the years, I owned a variety of campers, from vans to motorhomes, eventually ending up with a 36-foot Allegro Bus in 2008. But the idea of returning to truck camping, to truly downsize and embrace the great outdoors, was always in the back of my mind. In 2020, I downsized to a Rugged Mountain Granite 11RL, which I sold last year. To complete the downsizing journey, I became the proud owner of a new Soaring Eagle Aerie 8 in May of 2025.

My son and daughter traveled with me until they became adults. They both raced the junior classes but got busy as teenagers with other activities. My son was in the Marine Corps for 23 years, and he enjoys tent camping, hiking, skiing, and riding electric dirt bikes and other outdoor activities with our grandchildren. So far they’ve not gotten into RVs or truck campers, but there’s still hope.”

Lee Nelson

“My first truck camping experience was around 1965 when I was about ten years old. Not only was this my first truck camping experience, but it was also my first camping experience, period. My dad borrowed a truck camper from one of his friends. I don’t remember the brand of the camper, but I know that the truck was a Ford with the Camper Special package.

We went up to Northern Minnesota to the north shore of Lake Superior and the Gunflint Trail. The one thing I remember most was lying up in the cabover bunk with my two brothers as we were driving, staring through the front window and watching a new world unfold in front of us. Other memories include seeing very few people in the areas where we camped, and how far away from civilization it felt. Oh, and the mosquitoes!

That first experience got me hooked on camping. I went on many tent camping trips with my buddies as a teenager and through adulthood. I knew that eventually I wanted a truck camper. As soon as I was able to afford it, I bought a 1976 Chevy 4×4 and about a year later, I bought my first truck camper. It was an old Red Dale that was in pristine condition and looked like it had barely been used.”

Wanda Myers

“My first memories of truck camping were when I was five years old. My parents, two siblings, and I travelled from southern California to British Columbia with both sets of grandparents. While my memories of that trip are vague, I do remember having fun. I also remember my sister and I riding in the cabover. My brother was still a toddler, so I think he was in the cab with Mom and Dad.

Two things that stand out about that trip were the totem poles and stopping at the Trinity River. My parents had friends who had a vacation cabin on the Trinity, and it was on the other side of the river from where we parked. They had a raft on a cable pulley system to get to the other side, which, for a kid, was a great adventure. I also hooked my first fish on that raft, but it got away, and I cried.

I don’t know if that trip had any influence on me having truck campers these days, but I do know that the relatively compact size and ease of driving are big pluses for me. That, along with finding parking and getting in and out of gas stations, is a lot easier. I look at other RVs and always go back to truck campers. I guess I’m sold on them. I wish I had some pictures of that first trip.”

Mikeee and Cathie Tassinari

“The very first truck camper I saw was owned by my father’s tenant. It was a 1974 Winnebago 8 foot truck camper. In 1975, he put it up for sale, and my future wife and I bought it for $1,000. I was 23 and my future wife was 21. It was our very first bank note and took us three years to pay off. Oh, you want to talk about a lack of luxuries that we take for granted today!

No water pump—a hand pump next to the sink faucet!
No water heater—you boiled water if you wanted it hot!
No gray tank—five gallon bucket you put outside on the ground!
No black tank—cassette toilet that sat at the bottom of your clothes closet!
No battery—drew 12-volt power off the truck’s battery!
No electric Jacks—forget it, manual jacks!
Total of four lights inside—three 12-volt lights and one 120-volt light!
The propane heater had no fan!

We took that Winnebago truck camper on our Honeymoon in 1976 to Yellowstone National Park. We kept the Winnebago camper for 20 years and then gave it away.

In 2000, we were ready to get back into camping. There was zero consideration about getting anything other than a truck camper.

We went truck camper shopping one weekend and actually put deposits on two different campers. We got home and checked to make sure we had seen all the truck campers available in our area. There was a manufacturer called Lance that we had never heard of, and a dealer in Salem, New Hampshire, was selling them. Monday after work, we went there and fell in love with a Lance 1130.  We put a deposit on it. We canceled the deposits on the other two truck campers, and the rest is history.”

Sage Thrane

“My parents learned to water ski, so they wanted to tow a boat rather than a trailer. So my dad, an engineer, designed a camper and, with a friend who owned a former camper factory, built two campers over a winter. I think I was 7 years old.

After that, we camped nearly every weekend from spring through fall and did a two-week vacation every summer. We water skied, hiked, had campfires, and played board games and card games. It was a fantastic childhood!

Having your house with your vehicle makes the most sense. It’s small but has everything we need. I’m finally able to get back to truck camping this year! I’m so excited!”

Richard Van Valkenburg

“My earliest truck camping memories were from the 1960s. My three brothers and my parents, their friends, and their kids all went on a camping adventure. I remember riding in a camper as we traveled all over Minnesota and Wisconsin.

We’ve had two RVs with our kids. We are now retired. My wife, my dog, and I are towing a side-by-side trailer with a pickup camper.”

Candace Gregory

“I must have been around eight or so when Dad borrowed a pickup camper from a friend. He soon purchased one and was in the RV mode for 40 years or so. We had always gone camping, fishing, and hunting, but in tents. This was a step up for sure, and I have so many wonderful memories of our family traveling to see relatives, to National Parks, or in the nearby mountains.

Not having to pack up and move when traveling to the next destination was a game-changer. Having your bathroom with you or a place to hang out when it rained made it comfy for sure!

My pickup camper experiences as a child inspired me to get one of my own some 40 years later. I mostly use it for a basecamp while hiking and fishing with my dogs in the Sierras, but I was also able to take my Mom on a trip to Death Valley with me back in 2017.”

Bob Perry

“In 1963, we lived in Colorado Springs, and my dad bought a two-wheel drive half-ton GMC with a Merced camper on it. We took that thing all over the Rockies. Back then, you could go a week without seeing another human. It was still unspoiled to a great extent.

We also took a two-week trip (Mom, Dad, three teen girls, and me) to California in August to visit family. That was an adventure. The rig was way overloaded, but it did not fail us. We made it back. This is the short version. I can tell stories for hours about the times we spent in that rig. I spent so much time with my parents exploring the southwest in the 60s.

It came time to upgrade (my wife’s family had a van camper) from a tent to something more solid. Our friends had a tiny camper on a Nissan pickup, and we thought that was grand. We bought a 1972 Aristocrat and started our camper travels. Twenty-five years later, we’re in a Northern Lite 10-2 and can’t be happier.”

Don Miller

“Dad shifted down to third, then second, then first gear. We got close to the top, and then it slowed to a full stop with a jerk. Everybody in the back was abruptly dropped to a lower level. My niece fell into the dinette bed, while Mom and sister landed on the floor, where they were drenched with cooking oil and cornmeal falling from the overhead cabinet. The emergency brake went on, and everybody piled out.

“What do we do now?” Dad was ready to back down the hill and then take another run at it. “You can do it without us!” Mom and sister shouted. That gave me an idea. “Try it alone. We’ll walk over the top if you make it!” We all waited. When Dad came crawling past, all the adults grabbed onto the side of the camper and pushed. It kept creeping until it got over the hump. Dad stopped to let us get inside.

Dad’s 1973 Datsun, 4 cylinder, 1600cc, 4 speed manual, no air conditioner, no frills truck and camper provided my first memories of truck camping. The front truck seat held two adults. There was no back seat. Besides the truck, it had a huge (for the size of the truck) cabover camper on the back that could officially sleep three adults or two adults plus two small children. We always managed to squeeze more in.

I can’t remember who made the camper, but it was the same age as the truck. This rig would go anywhere, Dad thought. After all, the previous owner had already driven it to Alaska and back. A first trip was to take it over the gravel Cottonwood Road in central Utah. At the halfway point, there was a steep incline. This trip showed me that you can do a lot with very little. I’ve seen a lot of beautiful places this way.

Another time, it was Dad, Mom, me (grown), my oldest sister (grown), and her daughter (my niece, age 4). To make room inside the camper, Dad and I slept outside in a pup tent. The camper was loaded (over-loaded). It probably even had a full tank of drinking water.

When my younger niece got old enough, we took her also. At one point, we had somebody sleeping in the dinette bed and a child sleeping underneath in a bed we made on the floor.”

Erwin Greven

“I don’t have any childhood truck camping memories because growing up, my family tent camped all over the country. My first experience with truck campers was when I was 24 years old. I purchased a late 1960s 8-foot truck camper. The brand was a Cavalier. I put it on a 1960 Chevrolet Apache pickup that I already had.

I liked the idea of the truck camper because at that time (1980), the kids could ride in the overhead bunk and look out the window. Now it’s considered dangerous. This was way before extended cab or crew cab pickups.

We stayed with truck campers because we had horses and needed to tow a horse trailer up into the mountains. We belonged to a group called Back Country Horsemen of America. We helped clear trails for the Forest Service. I am currently on our fourth truck camper; a 2002 Lance 921.”

Terry Gfeller

“I’m guessing I was six or eight years old (1958 or 1959) and spent a weekend with my grandparents at a county fair where my grandpa was in a horse buggy race. It was hot and muggy, and I got sick from picking up pop bottles and trading them in at a booth to get a full one. Not a great memory.

That was my last experience with truck camping until about 1985 when I went with a friend in his camper on a hunting trip. I bought a well-used Scamper truck camper in 2003, a number of other pop-ups, and then my current Lance 865 in 2015. I have been having a blast with it every fall since.

I did the tent route, the pop-up tent trailer, and then settled on a truck camper being the best compromise for my style of boondock camping.

I took the kids along when I had tents and a tent trailer. The truck camper came after they had grown. My son currently camps with my grandkids out of a pop-up tent trailer.”

Tom Hall

“I can remember camping around 1959 or 1960. I would have been four or five, and we were in a 1957 Chevy Apache pickup with a Dingman fiberglass camper shell. We also towed a teardrop trailer.

In 1961, when I was six, my folks bought a new Chevy Apache pickup and an 8-foot Turnpike cabover camper. We had a 16-foot Larsen boat we towed behind. In 1966, we got two Hodaka dirt bikes and, in 1967, we got a Renault-powered sand rail.

In 1971, my parents commissioned a custom-built 10 1/2 foot Callen Camper for their 1967 C20 pickup. A 1971 C20 with a 402 was tapped to haul the Callen. In 1972, they bought a Traveline motorhome on an International Harvester chassis.

Truck camping was just a way of life for my family. My first in-laws gave my former wife and me a 10 1/2 foot camper in 1980. I had to rebuild the suspension on my 1973 K20 to haul it. I started bringing my daughter as an infant, making the dinette into a playpen for her.”

Charles Smith

“My earliest memories of truck camping are from 1965. I was 14 years old, and my father and uncle built a camper to go on the back of my father’s new 1965 step-side Chevy pickup.

The first trip was to St. George Island, Florida. It was in July (hot) and me and my brother slept on the floor, and my mother and father slept on the beds/seats on each side. We spent a week there surf fishing. At the time, you could drive up and down the 20 mile long island beaches. My father had a ’44 war surplus Jeep. It was great fun, and there I learned to drive.

It was the overall experience I enjoyed; fishing, driving on the beach in the old Jeep, and grilling out with fresh-caught seafood.

I fish a lot of bass tournaments and did not get back to camping until the last five years.”

Jeff Harris

“In 1969, I was camping on a beach in Mexico south of Ensenada. My dad almost burned the camper to the ground. He didn’t know you can’t place a propane tank on its side. Meanwhile, we were catching Pismo clams and giant 3-5 pound spiny lobsters. We had the best clam chowder ever, all while running wild and free at eight years old.

How cool it was to be literally nowhere and have everything you need, all while having the time of your life.”

Sean Rayne

“I grew up spending my summer weekends at Assateague Island National Seashore in my aunt and uncle’s old school pickup camper. It was in the mid-80s and my uncle had a 1970s Ford F-250 4×4 with an aluminum-sided camper. I’m not sure of the model, maybe a Nomad. That was real boondocking; no solar, no generator.

They had a gas refrigerator, of course, and several coolers with lots of ice and—you know—beverages. They eventually moved up to a Dodge Powerwagon 2500 with an 11.5′ Coachman truck camper. We would spend the days surf fishing, playing horseshoes and, of course, hanging out by the campfire at night.

There was quite a community of people who religiously went to the beach every weekend. Many good memories. I was always fascinated by the big trucks and campers. They were so cool!

I always liked the process and just being around the trucks on the beach—a young boy around trucks. Everyone had a cooler rack on the front and a back porch to kick the sand off before going into the camper. Now that I’m older, I’ve been able to work on my rig and build it into something that is really cool too!

I don’t go to the beach as often. I prefer to travel more. I am hoping someday to make my way across the country. As they say, “the world is your oyster.” Many of the rigs of my childhood were not capable of traveling much of any distance, or at least I don’t think I’d feel safe doing so. Most of the beach rigs were local folks that didn’t travel much more than 20-30 miles to get there.

I now enjoy camping in state parks in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, mostly in Maryland, Virginia and West Virginia. I’m looking to venture into the Carolinas, Pennsylvania, and New York. I take my girlfriend with me. She loves to camp but had never been in a truck camper.

Sometimes her kids go with us. We go hiking, mountain biking, whitewater rafting, and just go camping. We enjoy just being in the outdoors. Traveling in a camper allows us to bring our dog, Shadow, Sha-O, or just Puppers and our Kitty, Willow/Walter, aka 2Dubs. They both go hiking with us. It’s so much fun and people get a real kick out of the kitty that camps!”

Jim Batsford

“In 1960, when I was 13, my father bought a new Ford pickup. My earliest truck camping was in a canvas-covered cap my father designed and built over the bed of that truck! Then, in 1967, he bought a Datsun—now Nissan—pickup. At that time, there were no truck campers for small pickups, and the pop-up camper roofs were just coming out, so we built one of those. By now, I was old enough to borrow it and go camping myself.

Fast forward over 60 years, and many different forms of camping (tents, using my father’s mini Class C, and owning a fifth wheel), and now I’m back to my roots—a truck camper!

Why? A wedding in California in the middle of Covid, and a need to travel cross-country. We are in the Adirondack Mountains of New York State. We didn’t want to fly, and my brother-in-law needed to use the fifth wheel.

It was my wife who suggested a truck camper, stating that then she would be willing to drive some. The search was on; Facebook Marketplace to the rescue. Our dry run was 28 days and 8,000 miles on the road, and we got to that wedding with lots of great experiences along the way. My wife did half of the driving! Why did we wait so long?

Our grandchildren love it and keep teasing the next adventure!”

David Fillis

“Living in San Diego, our family enjoyed traveling to national parks and desert spots in our Tropicana cabover. My younger brother and I liked to watch the scenery go by from the big front-facing window above the cab. There was an opening between the camper and the back window area of the truck where we would give snacks to our parents up front.

My parents had a number of other truck campers following that first one, including an Open Road and a Fireball that I clearly remember. These experiences set the groundwork for my ongoing interest in truck campers to this day.”

Donald Fox

“My dad made his own truck camper sometime in the 1960s. We would go every summer to the Kerr Dam area, and he would bring his 15 foot boat on its trailer. I can’t remember the build, but I know it was made of 2×4 frame and aluminum siding.

When I got married in 1965, I had no money. The wife and I spent one night in a hotel and the rest of the week living in my dad’s truck camper—again staying in the Kerr Dam area. It was awesome! I don’t have any photos, but that is normal for the 1960s, as most people did not have a camera.

My brother purchased a camper very similar to a truck camper, and it seemed to fit his needs. Most of my friends were trying to get me to purchase a fifth wheel camper. I even purchased, and still own, a Ford F-450 diesel dually equipped with the fifth wheel cutouts just in case I decided to go bigger.

My first truck camper ended up being a Lance 1172, the largest camper Lance made. That even became a mistake. The quality was great, but just like the fifth wheel, it was too big. A year later, I purchased an Arctic Fox 990 and would not trade that one for anything else.

My granddaughter went camping with us for 45 days. We were only going to be out for three weeks, but she seemed to enjoy the travel, and really enjoyed having her own sleeping area (the kitchen table area). Three weeks ended up lasting six weeks. I am not certain which one of us enjoyed the trip more—the granddaughter or the grandfather.”

Stanley Kamys

“We took a 5,000 mile, 6 week road trip into Canada and the West Coast from Florida in a 1 1/2 ton pickup truck. On that trip, we saw a few truck campers and decided the next year to rent one in Colorado for a week. Gotta beat sleeping in the bed of the truck, or in a two-man tent.

The Colorado rental was fun. East-west bed on an F-350 V-10. That gave us insights as to what we wanted. We’ve have had three truck campers since then and can’t rationalize going Class C.

We’re in our 70s now and thought more room and comfort would be good. Our Lance 855s and four wheel drive GMC crew cab, single rear wheel short bed is still hard to beat. Maybe a newer one with better windows and a quieter air conditioner will be next! Lance still doesn’t have all the things we’d like – but it’s close.”

David Pracht

“I was an only child and raised by my Dad from the age of two and a half. Our venture into a truck camper started after we rolled our 1954 Chevy delivery panel truck that we’d made into a camper van. The rollover occurred when we hit a section of fresh oil and gravel road with no warning or signage. That was in the fall of 1961.

In the spring of 1962, I was 16 years old and my Dad bought a new 1962 Chevy three-quarter ton truck and a new 1962 Turnpike cabover camper. The camper had an 8-foot floor length, east-west sleeping with two sleeping bags, an ice box (no fridge), a single hand pump at the kitchen sink (no water heater), and propane lights. It had a four-burner stove and oven, but no bathroom. I don’t recall if it had any kind of heater.

When Dad had a vacation, we would jump in the truck camper and head out camping. My Dad enjoyed hunting and fishing, so that’s what I grew up learning to do. We would travel all over northern California, parts of Oregon, Washington, and Nevada. We saw lots of beautiful country and—regardless of whether the hunting or fishing were successful—being on the road and seeing the beauty our country has to offer always made the trip great. That was with one exception.

The summer of 1963, while camping on the Eel River in Mendocino County, I had an accident and it required 65 stitches in the bottom of my right foot. That was between my junior and senior year in high school. It ended up costing me an athletic scholarship. I had been a decathlon competitor.

Above: 1972 Chevy and 1970 Vacationaire truck camper

Two years after meeting my wife, Roby, we got married. That was July 2nd, 1972. The following year (1973), we bought our first home, and then our first truck. It was a 1972 Chevy three-quarter ton camper special. Next, we started looking for the right camper.

While looking at new Open Road campers, we spotted a 1970 Vacationaire. At first, we thought it was new, but there were bugs on the front window, so we knew that wasn’t the case. It had an 11 foot floor length, a way fridge, east-west cabover, no bathroom, but room for a porta-potty. We made an offer that was accepted, and that started our truck camping adventures.

In 1978, our son Curtis was born, and that started his camping adventures.

In 2023, Curtis bought his first truck camper; a 2019 F-350 and Lance 855. It was a combo built for the SEMA show. It’s been an experience.”

Chuck Cox

“It was the mid to late 1960s that my Aunt and Uncle would take me camping in their El Camino with a truck cap. We would always be camping in the Panguitch Lake area of Utah for fishing. We went every summer from when I was 8 to 12 years old. The camping and fishing were great, but the entire road trip aspect was a fond experience as well. Those early memories inspired me to take my six year old granddaughter on several truck camping adventures.”

Lance Holland

“I began camping with my family in the early 1950s when I was two or three years old. The camping frequency intensified with the Boy Scouts. My dad was a troop leader. I attained the rank of Eagle Scout when I was 13 years old. I was the first in my family to mount the camping kit in the back of a truck. That happened when I was 22 years old. My young wife and I took the 1972 Datsun pick-up on a four-month, 14,508 mile circumnavigation of North America.

Your request for stories about early truck camping adventures seemed the perfect opportunity to tell you about my book, What’s Next available at appalachianmercantile.net. I have included a sample from Chapter 4 that doesn’t exactly adhere to your question, but I feel your readers will enjoy the story and possibly the entire book.”

From the book, What’s Next, by Lance Holland
Chapter 4: Something Is Out There; Go Find It

Just two months after the Camporee, the scout troop found a new permanent scout master, and my duty there was concluded, but my 1-Y draft status remained in place. Whatever was behind these fortunate events did not matter; it was time to look forward to whatever life adventures lay ahead. Tina and I had been working and saving all the money we could for the past year, since we were not sure what would happen, maybe even an emergency trip to Brazil.

I think she had sort of been looking forward to an adventure in Brazil; everyone else was going to Canada, so going to Brazil would be kind of counter, counter culture. The government goons were looking to the north so maybe we could just blend in and become South American ranch hands. We had been doing some preliminary planning for a long journey. One night we were talking about our childhoods, and I told her the story of the Mayflower bought with golf ball money. That night, after we had gone to bed and I had drifted off to sleep, she sat straight up and said, “Ya know, you just can’t roller skate in a buffalo herd, let’s go see America.” Then, just as abruptly she lay back down and went fast asleep. The statement jarred me awake so I got back up, cracked open a beer, and studied on the proposal.

The next morning there was no need for further discussion, we were going to do this thing. We had learned a good deal about pre planning with the girl’s farm project; mostly that you need to do some. First, maps were assembled, and a tentative route was chosen. We would head east to begin, so we could collect a bottle of water from the Atlantic Ocean, haul it across North America and dump it in the Pacific Ocean. Seemed like an original idea, who knows, a crowd might gather to watch, and the local newspaper could read, “Young couple makes history.” A southerly route was chosen since we would be leaving Georgia in late March.

We traded in the Volkswagen and an extremely ugly 1951 Dodge pickup truck on a brand new 1972 Datsun pickup, burnt orange in color. A local manufacturer crafted a custom built camper shell to my exact specifications which was basically nothing more than a 2×2 wooden frame covered with aluminum sheeting and small windows placed where I had asked. I flew into the interior of our new home and installed small cabinets, shelves, water tank, and everything else we would need to live on the road for an undetermined period of time.

Above: The Datsun micro motorhome resting in Tina’s mom’s driveway in Palo Alto, California with one trans-continental crossing under its belt.

The result resembled something between a pup tent and a space capsule. A very small space for two people to live in for months, but Mayflower II proved worthy of the challenge. My dad was concerned about our safety in the Wild West. His vision of the region we were planning to traverse had come from the TV show Bonanza. He insisted that I carry a gun. The only gun I had was a long tom, 12 gauge, single barrel shotgun I had inherited from my grandpa. A formidable weapon, but the only way to store it in the Datsun’s space capsule was under the bedding which meant I would have to sleep on top of it and if anyone accosted us in the day time I would have to say, “Time out, I have to get grandpa’s shotgun out of the back of the truck.”

After considering these factors, dad and I decided a sign in the back window reading “THIS TRUCK PROTECTED BY COPPERHEAD SNAKES” coupled with the Georgia license tags would probably dissuade any western banditos.

We sold most of the extraneous stuff we had and stored the rest at my folk’s house including our dog, Jocelyn. She had never been a good traveler and would actually hide when it was time to load in the truck. When we returned four months later, any time we opened the truck door that dog was in.

We had a budget of about $1000 to circumnavigate North America, including gas. Our plan was to leave the balance of our cash with my folks who could wire us money in $100 increments via Western Union so if the banditos struck, we would not lose our entire stash. This would be a trip on the cheap. But what the hell, we were young, enterprising, and didn’t eat much. The plan was to supplement the bank roll with short term jobs, very short term, like one day because rolling stones are not allowed to gather moss. Nights would be spent anywhere the little Datsun motor home would not draw attention. We learned as the trip progressed that trailheads, boat ramps and roadside rest areas were good in rural areas; apartment complexes were the trick in town. Showers were not a problem, any town worth the name had a college with dormitories and free showers. Gasoline became the big variable, when we left regular gas cost 28.9 cents per gallon, half way through, the national fuel shortage had caused us to see signs reading “NO GAS TODAY.” Fuel was essential, when we could fill up at $1.50 per gallon, we were happy travelers.

Saving the money for the trip required us both to work full time. Tina worked as a telephone operator, and I drove a Coca Cola route truck. I would get up in the morning and drive the Datsun to the Coke warehouse and take off in my delivery truck. In the late afternoon I would swing by the house and pick up Tina and deliver her to Ma Bell to do the night shift. After reloading my Coke truck, I drove the Datsun to the telephone switching office and hitchhiked home. I had a poster in the cab of the truck that depicted a Coke machine with bullet holes, blood running out. The tag line read “Take that you soulless Son of a Bitch.”

Above: Our current camper. The interior is modified to serve as the mobile research unit for our Appalachian History Center as well as overnight accommodations.

The supervisor was not fond of my levity, but I sold a lot of Cokes, so I was tolerated. My Coke route took me into rural areas of Georgia. Just before casting off the confines of the day-to-day grind, I ran into Luke Booth, a tooth-liberated native at a small roadside store in Comer, Georgia. Luke was a talkative fellow, he told me his story and asked me mine. I told him about the trip, and he acted like this was about the best plan he had ever heard. He made me promise that I would send him a postcard from Oregon. He also insisted that we write down all of the adventures of our trip so he could relive them when we returned. Even though I was pretty sure that I would never see Luke Booth again, a written record sounded like a good idea. The hard-bound ledger we bought for this purpose became a member of the expedition, so we called it the Journal, and also sent Luke Booth a postcard from Oregon.