Defender 110 and Land Cruiser Troop Carrier: Unobtanium no more

Once unobtanium on U.S. Shores, these two expedition legends can now be had—for a price. Are they worth it?

By Graham Jackson

Images by Graham Jackson, Brian Slobe, and Jonathan Hanson

The images are ubiquitous, in National Geographic, in Geographical, on CNN and BBC, even on the web on Overland Expo and Exploring Overland: two of the most iconic and aspirational expedition vehicles in the world; the Land Rover Defender 110 Station Wagon and the Toyota Land Cruiser 75 Series Troop Carrier (Troopy). 

Both come from the same generation, the Defender started production in 1983 (yes, I know, it wasn’t named “Defender” until 1990, but it’s the same vehicle) and the 70 Series (J7) started production in 1984. From that time they became common sights in videos and news reports from the furthest, most adventurous parts of the world. Every wildlife documentary seemed to have a 110 lurking in the background and every natural disaster video report seemed to have a 70 Series on hand. These two vehicles became legends in short order.

But for the longest time neither vehicle was available in the USA. Sure, in 1993 Land Rover imported 500 federalized Defender 110s, which now fetch staggering prices on the used market—a testament to the pent-up demand for this vehicle. Mining companies have imported 75-series Land Cruisers, but they are not road legal and spend most of their lives as workhorses underground, where the incredibly tough conditions means no other vehicle is adequate. Why neither Toyota nor Land Rover took the effort to bring the vehicles into the USA as a major model for sale to the public can only be answered by the penny-pushers and spreadsheet drones at either company. 

However, examples from the golden era of these vehicles (mid-1990s) have now reached the 25-year-old mark, making them eligible for private import into the USA. The question is, are they worth it? Should you find a Defender 110SW or 75 Series Troopy and import it into the U.S.? Would either serve well as an overland or expedition vehicle here? Since I own both, I think I can offer some insight.

To be clear, I am referencing only the specific models mentioned. Obviously there are other Land Cruisers and other Defenders, and both marques have massive followings of experts who will call me out on any transgression, so let’s define what we are talking about:

 In my opinion, the golden age for these vehicles was the 1990s, and the best of the best were the export models, which is what the UN and aid organizations typically got. For Defenders that means, at its base, the Rest of World (ROW) spec 110 Station Wagon with the 300tdi diesel engine and 5-speed transmission, in white. There are ROW spec pickups, 90s, 130s and 3-door 110s as well, but here we are looking at the Station Wagon, the 110SW.  For the Land Cruiser, choosing a spec is even more murky; the J7 line has two model groups, five wheelbases, many body variations, and twenty-two different engines! Here we are looking at the HZJ75, the ‘heavy duty long wheelbase’ with the 1HZ inline 6 cylinder engine and manual 5-speed transmission with the enclosed or ‘troop carrier’ body—also in white. See the chart for specifics.

Analysis

Let’s get this one out of the way: They are both gorgeous. Something about the boxy appearance and the utilitarian stance; they exude confidence and capability even when parked. They are vehicles you cannot step out of and not look back at; like your ultimate crush, they command the eye. I put that solidly in the good list, because their legend is in no small part due to this. If you don’t find your eyes drawn back to the opening picture of this article, then . . . well, I’m surprised you read this far.

The rest of the “good” category pertains to the very utilitarian aspect that makes these vehicles excellent for expeditions and overlanding. Tom Sheppard and Jonathan Hanson have a fantastic comparison of the features in the Vehicle Dependent Expedition Guide, and I’ve included some in the chart here. Both are at the top of the range of available vehicles in terms of payload, in volume and weight, for their size. The Defender can carry a staggering 41 percent of its GVW as payload (with the heavy duty suspension installed), and the Troopy isn’t far behind at 30 percent, while the Troopy has a cavernous load bay at 87 cubic feet compared to the Defender’s at 77 (both with rear seats removed). As great load carriers, they lend themselves exceptionally well to expedition work, capable — with tried-and-true four-wheel-drive systems and suspension — of carrying the load over unforgiving terrain. The 110 has the more comfortable and compliant coil springs coupled with full-time four-wheel-drive, while the 75 has leaf springs and part-time four-wheel-drive with locking hubs—and, in many available examples, factory-optional cross-axle diff locks front and rear. The Land Rover’s fuel capacity is 21 gallons; the Troopy boasts dual tanks carrying a total of 47 gallons. Both come with five-speed transmissions.

Far from sport-utility-vehicles, these are just utility vehicles. No automatic transmissions, no driver aids like stability control or ABS—these are vehicles that have to be driven. They do not handle particularly well on the road, they lean excessively in corners when driven fast, and demand attention. But this is also an advantage. The lack of complex systems and sensors means that field repair is easier, and reliability is better. And no, I’m not going down the Land Rover reliability rabbit hole; Defenders are extremely reliable when cared for well. 

Both the 300tdi and the 1HZ are stalwart expedition diesel engines that run on mediocre quality fuel, though the 1HZ is more tolerant. Both have simple mechanical fuel injection and can run on only one wire to the fuel solenoid if required — no computers to get in the way. But that also means they are not clean engines. They will pass 1990s emission standards, but nothing better. The 300tdi is a bit cleaner since it has a turbo, while the 1HZ will serve as an extremely good black fog machine at elevation. Neither are powerful. At 111 HP for the Land Rover and 129 HP for the Toyota, they accelerate slowly and cruise the same way. We will come back to this point later.

Toyota’s ultra-durable 1HZ six-cylinder diesel has been in production for 30 years.

Land Rover’s 300tdi is exceptionally fuel-efficient.

Luxury appointments are sparse, as are electronics. No electric motors in seats, no electric windows; sound systems that are barely able to drown out the noise of the engines and the road. They are not vehicles to drive with one finger at 85 mph while sipping a latte, texting friends, and jamming to tunes. The 75 does have tilt steering and optional electronic door locks, but no remote key fob. The 110 doesn’t even have those bare luxuries. Air conditioning is the one “luxury” shared by both, though some would argue it is a necessity (and it’s only optional for the 110SW). There are no speed sensors and interlocks to stop you shifting the transfer case while on the move and no backup sensors or cameras to help those who neglected to learn how to park or use mirrors. No clutch interlock to stop you starting the engine with the clutch engaged. Again, this speaks to their utilitarian drivability which is also one of their strongest assets. These are not nanny vehicles that assert “safety;” they are vehicles that demand attention, demand driving, and reward you in that you can start in gear when bogged in soft sand, or switch to high range while on the move so long as you double de-clutch. 

Stock tire sizes are the same, at 235/85R16 (760R16), one of the most common light truck sizes in the world. Pretty easy to find almost anywhere. Given the simple non-electronic mechanics on both vehicles it is very easy to get them repaired.

The load bays on both models are spacious, sparse and square. Nothing better for building out a living space or a load system for any expedition. Unhampered by plastic trim, carpeting and  cup holders, they are blank slates to build up and make your own. 

Both vehicles lend themselves to camper conversions.

Which leads us to the two features that makes both of these vehicles so exceptional yet have nothing to do with Toyota or Land Rover. It is the massive aftermarket support in accessories and the equally massive community of owners who are willing to help wherever you go. Because of their highly customizable and modular nature (by design), it is very simple to make a 110 or a 75 your own unique expedition rig. From pop-tops to long-range fuel tanks to water tanks and interiors, to suspensions and underbody protection, both models have excellent support in this regard. The internet is filled with fantastic examples of beautifully outfitted vehicles. This also means that it can be very challenging to find one that is unmolested or even close to stock. 

But don’t mistake all my praise to imply that either vehicle is perfect out of the box. One of the reasons that they have such massive aftermarket support is that they are, by all counts, mediocre when stock. Expedition vehicles are a collection of compromises and the 110 and the 75, in stock form, are exceptional in that they are completely un-exceptional. It’s like getting the highest quality blank notebook, with the finest acid-free paper and the most beautiful leather cover, case bound, that will last forever. But it is still a blank notebook until you put a few stickers on the outside and then fill it with stories and paintings of your travels to the  most remote and beautiful parts of the world. 

So . . . are they good for the USA?

In a word, no, I don’t think they are. 

But that speaks more to the culture and circumstances of the U.S. than it does to the vehicles. In this country most people get very little time off, and distances are so great that a good portion of any overland adventure is going to be highway time. Neither of these vehicles is good at that. With a comfortable cruising speed of not much above 65 mph, both demand patience; with solid axles and archaic steering geometry, both demand constant attention. Many, many people have purchased a Land Rover Defender after falling in love with the safari image, only to sell it when they discover it is not a modern car, lacks anything close to a creature comfort, and requires diligent maintenance. If it is expected to be a mode of travel for family vacations, strife and frustration are often the result.

With that said, if you are a person with plenty of time who is happy to cruise at 65 mph and enjoy the scenery—and to be fair, there are quite a few who can and do (looking at you Maggie McDermut)—you might live happily with either of these vehicles, and will enjoy looking back at it every time you park and get out. When modified in any of the hundreds of variations possible, up to and including pop-tops, cabinets with sink and stove, hot shower systems, awnings, and more, once in camp they are the equal of any more “modern” vehicle. 

Cabinetry turned this Troopy into a mini motor home.

Finally, of course, if you ever do have the opportunity to ship your Defender or Troopy overseas to Africa, Australia, or South America, you will be driving one of the premier choices for extended exploration in the remotest regions of the planet. It will be a notebook in which you can write your own adventures. If such a vision inspires you, I cannot recommend either of these vehicles highly enough.

Graham Jackson is the long-time Director of Training for the Overland Expo, and a founder of 7P Overland, a professional four-wheel-drive training and equipment-supply organization. Their website is here.

The new military-spec G-Wagen

The Mecedes G-Class—or Gelandewagen or G-Wagen, if you prefer—arrived late to the expedition scene: It was only introduced in 1979 as a military vehicle, designed at the urging of the Shah of Iran, at the time an important stockholder in Mercedes-Benz. (The Shah put in a pre-order for 20,000 of them, subsequently canceled when he rather abruptly became the ex-Shah.) Once civilian versions became available, a small contingent of explorers appreciated the Holy Grail configuration of  the G-Wagen (and could afford its premium price)—a massive, fully boxed chassis with up to six tubular crossmembers, equally overspecced solid axles riding on an all-coil suspension, and cross-axle differential locks front and rear. No other mid-sized expedition machine combined all those features.

Fast-forward to today. The vast majority of G-Wagens are now sold bloated with luxury options (64-color ambient lighting, anyone?), and the most challenging expedition they’ll face is a gallery-hopping run up Canyon Road in Santa Fe.

And yet, the basic bones remain—despite a move to (gasp) independent front suspension in 2018. Over the years the company has offered various “Professional” models with overland-friendly bling-delete spec-lists. Now it has announced a new, military-only (for now) model referred to as the W464 (succeeding the W461). 

The company hasn’t released detailed specifications; however, it is known the new version will benefit from significantly more power, thanks to a 3.0-liter inline six-cylinder turbodiesel, producing 245 horsepower and 445 pound-feet of torque, run through an 8-speed auto transmission. The W464 also has a heavy-duty 24-volt electrical system. Finally, photos indicate it retains a solid front axle.

In contrast to these business-like features is the civilian-spec (with IFS) W463’s new “Professional Line Exterior Trim” package, which includes mesh stone guards for the headlamps, 18-inch wheels with mild-looking tires, and . . . mudflaps. A nice-looking roof rack is an option, as is a swing-away spare tire holder, and some truly alarming body colors.

Not sufficient for your professional overlanding needs? You can also order the “Night Package,” which includes black mirrors and—ready?—a black three-pointed star in the grille. See above.

Dear Mercedes: Can we please have the W464 instead?

2022 Toyota Tundra: Continuing the "My Grille is Bigger than Your Grille" Wars (EDITED)

Toyota has revealed some details of the 2022 Tundra. The most-featured news is the deletion of the long-serving V8 engine for a twin-turbocharged V6, following current popular trends in configuration and number of pistons. The top-of-the-line model produces 437 horsepower.

Other changes include rear coil suspension—a welcome upgrade and one the Tundra should have had from the beginning.

What I haven’t found out is if the Tundra’s sub-par “Triple-Tech” chassis, with open-channel frame members under the bed, has been ditched for a proper boxed chassis, as every competitor has. I still don’t know why the company abandoned boxed chassis in its trucks for a design similar to that found on Fords and Chevys in the 1970s.

More news as I uncover it.

EDIT: Ha! The 2022 Tundra has returned to a fully boxed chassis. Thank you Toyota. Along with the coil-sprung, multi-link rear axle, this represents a genuine leap in the design of this truck.

Three cheers!

Now, can we talk about that grille?

Toyota's new (not for the U.S.!) 3.3-liter V6 turbodiesel

Along with the near simultaneous announcements that Toyota would be pulling the Land Cruiser from the U.S. Market while introducing the completely redesigned 300 Series Land Cruiser elsewhere, the company also announced a brand new engine for the updated model. Replacing the existing 4.5-liter, twin-turbo V8 is a 3.3-liter, twin sequential turbo V6. This is Toyota’s first diesel V6.

Reflecting the advances in turbodiesel technology, the new engine boasts increased power and torque compared to its significantly larger predecessor—304 horsepower and 516 lb./ft. compared to 268 horsepower and 480 lb./ft.

Just as importantly, and contrary to the fears of those who predicted the smaller engine would have a torque peak higher in the RPM range, the 3.3’s curve peaks in more or less exactly the same range as the 4.5, from 1,500 to 2,900 rpm. Note the chart on the right below.

The new engine should exhibit significantly decreased turbo lag, thanks both the the sequential turbo configuration (in which one is set up to provide immediate boost while the other takes over higher in the rev range) and the “hot vee” arrangement of the exhaust.

In contrast to standard V engine construction, in which the intake manifold sits between the cylinder banks and the exhaust exits under the sides of the V, the hot vee turns everything around, siting the exhaust manifolds between the cylinder banks. This drastically shortens the run from the exhaust ports to the turbos.

The 4.5 was known for—depending on your point of view—underwhelming specific power output, or being admirably under-stressed for heavy-duty use. The 3.3 is obviously tuned to a higher level, but much of that might be attributed to the configuration. The 4.5 also had a few problems, at least early on, with disappointing oil consumption (although I only read about this in connection with the single-turbo version in the 70-Series vehicles).

I’ve not yet read anything regarding the new engine’s fuel-delivery system—or, more to the point for overland travelers who rightly view the 70-Series vehicles as the ultimate global expedition platforms—whether or not it will be installed in the Troop Carrier and its brethren.

The Morgan CX-T . . .

Just in case you thought it was no longer possible to buy an off-pavement vehicle as uncomfortable as an FJ40 or Series III Land Rover . . .

From NewsPress UK:

Morgan unveils the Plus Four CX-T, a car with adventure at its core. A vehicle with capability not yet witnessed on a Morgan sports car, it opens up the possibility of routes, landscapes and destinations inaccessible by Morgan cars until now.

The Morgan Plus Four CX-T is inspired by Morgan’s well documented history of competing in all-terrain endurance trials. As early as 1911, Morgan sports cars were competing and winning in trials competitions, and this spirit of adventure has been key to shaping the Morgan brand ever since. The more adventurous journeys that are frequently undertaken by Morgan customers all over the world have further fuelled the desire for Morgan to imagine the Plus Four CX-T.

Following the launch of the Plus Four in 2020, Morgan partnered with Rally Raid UK, renowned creator of Dakar race cars, to jointly design and engineer the Plus Four CX-T. One of the aims of the project is to demonstrate the capability and durability of Morgan’s new CX-Generation platform, along with the Plus Four upon which the CX-T is based.

Just eight vehicles will be built, priced at £170,000 plus local taxes and supplied in full overland specification, with each customer having the opportunity to work alongside Morgan’s design team to specify their own CX-T. Every Plus Four CX-T is built at Morgan’s factory in Malvern, Worcestershire, before undergoing the final preparation and setup at Rally Raid UK’s own workshop facilities. Morgan’s design and engineering team have worked alongside Rally Raid UK throughout the programme to define the concept, specification, technical attributes, and aesthetic of the model.

More here if you’re intrigued. I am, in a twisted sort of way.

The five best modifications . . . to leave off your expedition vehicle

Expedition travel is a different universe than weekend four-wheeling. When you’re just out for a few days near home—camping, challenging a few trails—breaking down is no more than an inconvenience. But if you’ve embarked on a long journey far from familiar territory, perhaps in another country or on another continent, a breakdown can endanger the trip—or even your safety if you’re traveling solo and are tens or hundreds of miles from assistance. For journeys such as this, your priorities regarding vehicle modifications and accessories need to change, from an emphasis on maximum 4WD performance (and, let’s be honest, maximum looks) to reliability and durability. A lot of the products that enhance the former can seriously impact the latter. Here are a few of the most important.

Big tires. Everyone loves the look of big, aggressive tires on a 4x4, and in certain situations they have advantages in ground clearance, traction, and the ability to successfully climb ledges. But big, heavy tires extract a heavy price. They put massive additional stress on your suspension, steering components, and bearings. They hurt fuel economy and retard acceleration—and if you install higher-ratio differential gears in an attempt to compensate for these downsides, you’ll simply weaken the pinion gear, which has to be reduced in size to gain the higher ratio. Larger-diameter and heavier tires also increase braking distances. Remember that Land Rovers conquered Africa on skinny 7.50 x 16 tires, and Land Cruisers conquered Australia on the same size. Besides, if you destroy one of your 38s in Botswana I guarantee you won’t find a replacement in Maun. They know better there. For more details on the downsides of big tires, see here.

Installing higher ratio ring and pinion gears results in a smaller, weaker pinion gear.

Big suspension lift. As with tires, there are some advantages to a raised suspension for rock crawling or mud bogging. Not on an expedition. You want to keep your center of gravity as low as possible to ensure maximum fuel economy and safe handling while carrying the equipment and rations needed for a long journey. Big suspension lifts increase angles on rod ends and driveshaft joints, leading to premature wear. You’ve probably seen photos of the Camel Trophy Land Rovers that challenged some of the toughest terrain on the planet—they all rode on stock-height suspension. If you really think you need some lift, keep it to a couple of inches. The expedition experts at ARB know this—their Old Man Emu suspension kits are all in the two-inch range.

Race shocks. Along with a suspension lift, many owners install long-travel shocks modeled after racing versions, with all-metal heim-joint ends, external-bypass tubes, and remote reservoirs. Shocks like this are designed to deal with the kind of high-speed, high-amplitude movement common in off-road races—exactly what you’re not going to be doing on a long journey in a loaded vehicle. You’re better off using a simple shock with enough oil capacity to stay cool after a full day of driving over washboard or rutted roads and trails. Standard rubber bushings last longer and are far easier to replace than heim joints, and help dampen road vibrations. Exposed chrome shafts quickly become sandblasted in the bush; they should be shielded or completely covered with a sheath or bellows. 

The best expedition shock I’ve ever used is the Koni Heavy Track Raid, an utterly boring-looking thing next to the racer models, but with a huge oil capacity capable of soaking up mile after mile of abuse under a fully loaded Land Rover 110. ARB’s (Old Man Emu) BP51 is another excellent shock, employing internal bypass valves that allow adjustment of both compression and rebound without the exposed bits of external pypass tubes. Some BP51 models, it appears, come with heim joints; I’d avoid those. Sadly neither of these shocks is available for my FJ40 or I’d have them on it (although the standard OME Nitrocharger has performed well for me for decades).

The Koni Heavy Track Raid relies on robust twin-tube design and massive oil volume to handle torturous conditions.

Wheel spacers. A wheel spacer is a disk—usually aluminum—that fits between the hub and the wheel to increase track width and reduce lateral load transfer, which can fractionally help handling and stability. They give your truck a more aggressive look, too. Unfortunately, they also put significant extra stress on wheel bearings, since as you move the wheel farther away from the bearing you’re essentially lengthening a very strong lever. You’re also increasing the scrub radius, which is the distance between where the pivot point of the kingpin intersects the ground and the center of the tread, as well as increasing the kingpin offset. All of this affects the steering and suspension negatively, and will wear components you do not want to have to replace in a spot where “Amazon” only refers to a large river. 

Every time I criticize wheel spacers I get emails from guys (you know who you are) who’ve had them on for X-hundred thousand miles and never had a problem. I don’t doubt this. But physics is physics, and putting extra leverage on your wheel bearings and steering components does them no good, period. (I know a guy who smoked two packs of cigarettes a day and lived to 80, too. Doesn’t prove it’s a good idea.)

“High-performance” air intakes. Intake systems that replace the stock air filter with one designed—or at least hyped—to produce more horsepower are frequently much worse at actually filtering air, and are often more vulnerable to water intrusion during a crossing. Those advertised horsepower gains are measured on a dyno—about as far from expedition reality as possible. The truth is, most factory intake systems are carefully routed to ingest cold outside air while minimizing the danger of water ingress. You can, if you choose, install a snorkel, which contrary to belief does not automatically turn your vehicle into a submarine, but does help get the intake above some ground-level dust. 

Roof rack. Okay, I said five, but here’s a bonus. Do without a roof rack if you can. Ah, but what about the Camel Trophy Land Rovers I just mentioned? They looked awesome under those racks piled high with jerry cans and PelicanPelican cases, right? True, but, first, the CT vehicles usually had two team members plus two journalists inside; they were operating in extremely remote terrain, and and simply had to carry extra gear on the roof. More important, those vehicles all too frequently ended up on their sides during demanding special tasks. You don’t want to do that, because you won’t have 15 other Camel Trophy vehicles to help you get back on all four wheels. 

Excess roof loads negatively affect handling and fuel economy, and everything strapped up there is vulnerable to casual theft. It’s even bad for braking: Weight up high tends to pitch the vehicle forward under braking, unloading the rear tires. If you absolutely need a roof rack, keep the load as light as possible—the weight of the rack itself plus, say, a tent is about maximum for safety’s sake. Some of the current minimalist aluminum racks from Front Runner and ARB don’t add much mass or bulk themselves, as long as they’re not loaded up with 300 pounds worth of jerry cans and Hi-Lifts and solar hot shower systems.

Remember, on a long, remote journey, reliability should be your number one through five priority. Add on all the accessories you like that won’t affect that, but the best approach to most critical driveline components is to stay as close to stock as possible.

Proof in the pudding: We successfully negotiated the Abu Moharek sand sea in three Land cruisers with 1) near-stock-size tires, 2) stock suspension, 3) factory (raised) air intakes, 4) no wheel spacers, and 5) lightly loaded roof racks.

(A version of this article first appeared in Tread magazine.)

Long-wheelbase Jimny announced

What a shame we can’t get these in the U.S.! More on the Indian Autos Blog, here.

The new (ish) Ford Super Duty pickups

Note: a version of this article appeared earlier this year in OutdoorX4 magazine.

Question: Can an environmentalist—that is, someone concerned with the fate of our planet and its inhabitants (human and non-human), who trusts the findings of thousands of climate scientists, and who strives to live a responsible and reasonably low-impact life—possibly endorse a one-ton four-wheel-drive truck powered by a 475-horsepower turbodiesel V8?

I thought about this as I drove west on I-10 from Phoenix, piloting a 2020 Ford F350 SuperCrew Platinum 4x4. Tim Stoehr, a Ford product line manager, rode in the passenger seat; another journalist, Kevin Jones, sat in the spacious back seat. From the moment I’d started the truck and pulled out of the Wigwam Resort, to accelerating up the ramp on to the freeway and cruising at 75 mph, there had been no audible sign I was in a diesel truck. None. The sole giveaway was the monstrous thrust forward when I flattened the pedal. The ten-speed Torqshift transmission, brand new and beefed up to handle the—ready?—1,050 lb.ft. of torque produced by the 6.7-liter Power Stroke V8, produced shifts imperceptible enough to embarrass a Bentley.

I had adjusted the heated steering wheel both up and down and in and out to my preference, along with the adjustable pedals. My 10-way-adjustable leather-clad seat boasted both heating and cooling functions, and after we’d been on the highway for 20 miles or so Tim asked, “How about a massage?” I laughed, but then he reached over to the touch-screen and tapped a couple of times—and immediately, up my back and under my thighs I felt as if someone were running a rolling pin back and forth along my muscles. The seat incorporates multiple air bags that provide lumbar support, but can also be sequenced to produce a definite shiatsu effect that I had to admit might be welcome after five or six hours on the road.

By this point a few of you might have agreed with me if I’d thought, Who needs polar bears anyway? But we’ll come back to that.

Tim pointed out the unsurprising fact that the massage function was part of a premium package. I’m not sure what he thought of my suggestion that they could include it on the base model but have it operate with quarters.

After 40 miles on I-10 we headed north on a two-lane road that turned to winding dirt. For an unladen one-ton truck this one rode well, with surprisingly little side-stepping on washboard. The structure felt as solid as a 7,000-pound pickup on a fully boxed chassis ought to feel. Actually, despite its long list of features and a crew cab, this truck weighs less than my 2004 F350 Super Cab, thanks to an aluminum-intensive cab and bed structure. 

We pulled into the parking lot of This Dude’s Food and Brew in the one-horse town of Congress, Arizona, where several thousand horses awaited us in the form of various Super Duty trucks hooked to an escalating tonnage of trailers, from a 7,500-pound Black Series all-terrain model up to a gooseneck monster supporting a Kubota backhoe and a tracked digger—this to showcase the top Super Duty towing capacity of—ready again?—37,000 pounds. I believe my first house weighed less. In fact only those who possessed a commercial driver’s license were legally allowed to try out the F450 dually hooked up to this thing. I contented myself riding along while Kevin drove an F250 pulling the more overland-relevant Black Series camper up the seven-percent grade on Highway 89, past the memorial to the 19 Granite Mountain hotshot firefighters who died in the Yarnell Hill fire in 2013. The trailer might as well have fallen off for all the drag it imposed on the new 7.3-liter gas engine in this truck.

Need to tow a couple of tractors? No problem.

The towing demonstrations were impressive, but I was more interested in backcountry capability, so I was glad when we climbed back in the SuperCrew and headed 45 miles southwest on a dirt road that ended at a massive quarry, where Ford had constructed a driving course. 

And a good one it was, too. In ten years of running the Overland Expo we developed some excellent driving courses, but by necessity ours had to be negotiable by a wide variety of vehicles. Here the engineers were able to tailor it very specifically to impress.

Among other challenges they had incorporated a rock garden, a 29-degree climb and matching descent, some elephant footsteps, a water channel designed to show off the “Tremor” package’s commendable 33-inch fording depth (except it had drained down to a foot and a half or so by my turn), and a rather awesome diagonal ditch crossing that Matt Flis, the engineer who accompanied me, said several journalists had pronounced impassable before they were shepherded across. A curving, truck-plus-a-foot-wide passage between a double row of rocker-height boulders showcased another feature: a “bird’s-eye” view of vehicle and rocks courtesy of multiple cameras. It was a bit unnerving to try to keep one’s eyes glued to the center screen rather than out the windshield, but it worked. (Nevertheless, like most such aids, I do not consider it an acceptable substitute for learning where your truck ends.)

Compliance is not bad considering the nature of the truck. Lack of chassis flex is impressive.

About that “Tremor” package. Whether or not it includes depleted-uranium skid plates to prevent ingress by giant subterranean carnivorous worms I do not know, but it does incorporate the following features:

• 35-inch-diameter Goodyear Wrangler Duratrac tires on 18-inch alloy rims.

• Locking rear differential and (slightly disappointingly) Dana ABS-actuated traction control in the front axle.

• Trail Control with a rock-crawl mode and selectable speed.

• 10.8 inches of ground clearance.

• Decent approach and departure angles (for a big pickup) of 31 and 24 degrees.

• Suspension modifications: lifted front end, progressive-rate springs, twin-tube shocks with 1.7-inch pistons.

• A 53:1 crawl ratio on the 7.3-liter gas-engined trucks, and a 44:1 ratio for those equipped with the 6.7-liter turbodiesel. 

• An available 12,000-pound Warn winch equipped with synthetic line, very tidily hidden but with virtually zero visual or manual access to the drum to ensure correct spooling—a pet peeve of mine, yet more and more common.

Stylish but impractical hidden winch

The Tremor package is available on both the F250 (3/4-ton) and F350 (one-ton) trucks (oddly only the SuperCrew and not the SuperCab) in XLT trim level and above. But here is the important news for those contemplating one as an overlanding vehicle: The Tremor package retains the same base towing and cargo-hauling capacities as the standard truck, in contrast to most trucks with “off road” packages.

Lift bocks make for some loooong U bolts.

Suppose you were planning to buy a Four-Wheel Camper with which to do some exploration, and wanted a capable truck to carry it. We’ve owned two of these superb aluminum-framed homes away from home, both of them on Toyota Tacomas—an earlier narrow version and, later, a wider Fleet. In each case mounting the camper brought us bang up to the GVWR rating of the truck. We had to modify the suspension with air bags and heavy-duty shocks, and switch to E-rated tires. Fuel economy suffered significantly. We loved the size of the combination, as it presented very few obstacles in the backcountry. Also, obviously, we loved the Toyota reliability. But the compromises were obvious, and I was never happy with the chassis flex that resulted from the 2012 Tacoma’s open-channel rear frame sections (continued on the current model), or with its laughably antiquated rear drum brakes (continued on the current model).

Now consider that an F250 Tremor SuperCrew (crew cab) with the 6.75-foot bed has a cargo capacity of 3,450 pounds. The appropriate Four Wheel Camper model, the Hawk—a bit roomier than our Fleet—weighs 1,100 pounds dry according to the factory. Let’s assume some fudge factor there, add some options, then figure water, batteries, solar panels, etc. Give it 1,600 pounds. That’s still less than half the rated capacity for the F250, giving one plenty of leeway for a winch bumper and winch, a recovery-capable rear bumper, and other de rigueur expeditiony bits. If, on the other hand, you’ve been seduced by one of those ultra-stylish Black Series trailers, you’d find that its 7,500 pounds is exactly half the rated towing capacity of the F250 Tremor.

Now consider something else.

For various reasons you might laugh at given that my wife and I own five four-wheel-drive vehicles, I rented a truck for the drive from Tucson to Phoenix and back: a 2019 Toyota Tacoma Crew Cab, with the 3.5-liter V6 (gas, of course) and six-speed automatic transmission. Over the course of 260 miles of interstate driving between 75 and 80 mph, the truck returned a measured 19.6 miles per gallon. Note that this was a two-wheel-drive truck.

By comparison, the Ford Super Duty I drove back and forth between the resort and the driving venues, an F350 (i.e. one-ton) SuperCrew 4x4, with the 6.7-liter turbodiesel and 10-speed transmission, returned 19.4 miles per gallon over mixed freeway, two-lane paved, and dirt road driving. Further consider that my friend Michael Cox, who recently bought a new Super Duty and mounted his 20-year-old Four Wheel Camper on it, is reporting 18.2 mpg on the highway.

One can rightfully point out the significant up-front premium of the diesel engine, and the pernicious higher price of diesel fuel itself in the U.S. Nevertheless, considering solely the amount of fossil fuel burned by each vehicle, the result is eye-opening, if not shocking. Add to that Michael Cox’s confirmation of the fact that a large, powerful truck will lose a smaller percentage of its fuel economy carrying a camper (or towing a trailer) than will a small, modestly powered truck—our recent Tacoma/FWC struggled to top 15 mpg—and it might make you re-evaluate some preconceptions.

This leads us back to the question I posed at the beginning of this article. 

I’m certainly not going to give you a pass if you use your F350 to commute 50 miles back and forth to your 7,000-square-foot home every day, and hop in the Gulfstream G550 for skiing weekends in Gstaad. But there are plenty of ways to reduce one’s impact on the planet besides not traveling anywhere or only driving a Prius (how about an F350 and a Prius, for example?). Yes, my wife and I own five 4x4 vehicles, but our 1,000-square-foot house gets more than 100 percent of its yearly electricity from the 3,600 watts worth of photovoltaic panels on the roof. I’m not putting us forth as environmental saints—my 46-year-old FJ40 is far from a paradigm of fuel economy or low emissions—but then I put more miles on my bicycle each year than I do the Land Cruiser. The point is that excess in one area can be conscientiously ameliorated by conservation in another. Even the often-snickered-at carbon offsets can help put a thumb on the good side of the scale.

There’s something else, however, that is at least as important as the personal-responsibility, energy-conserving, carbon-offset aspect of a civic-minded life.

Overlanding, reduced to its essence, is about traveling through beautiful country. And the more of that traveling we do, the more we appreciate the open spaces, the myriad landforms, the clear skies, the pure streams, and the wildlife we experience. In turn, that experience imbues us with a sense of stewardship, and a desire to protect what we have enjoyed so that our children’s children might be able to do the same. And that—hopefully—spurs us to vote on local and national conservation issues in ways that have far more impact than the immediate fuel efficiency of our mode of transportation.

What would happen if we stopped traveling? We might retain fond memories of the places we’d seen, but our children wouldn’t. They would grow up with no knowledge of or appreciation for those places. Pleas for conservation would be annoyances easily dismissed in favor of immediate, shallow pleasures. Why worry about the loss of something you’d never seen except in an old documentary? You can watch the video any time, or visit that new Disney World “Old Growth Forest Experience.”

No. We need to keep exploring, and we need to show our children the exquisiteness of wild places. Therefore, yes: This environmentalist has no trouble endorsing the new Super Duty pickups. Get one, put a Four Wheel Camper on it, and go explore, preferably with your or someone else’s kids. Then come home and do the right thing at the ballot box, and buy some LED lightbulbs and a half-dozen solar panels. Maybe even a bicycle—nothing does carbon offset like riding a bike.

And if you still find yourself feeling a bit self-conscious thinking about all this on a long drive to somewhere beautiful, just reach over and hit that massage button.