By all accounts, I should be the first candidate for landing. I love the vehicles and the adventures they allow. I’m on a quest to see as many national parks as possible, I have a job that allows me to try out different gear and report on their usefulness, and I already have a good example of the best landing pad never built. There’s only one problem: I’m not sure that overlanding is, at this point, an overhyped fad.
I can say conclusively that heading out into our Great American Wild with your truck and camping gear is one of life’s greatest pleasures. The National Parks, National Forests, and Bureau of Land Management holdings that dominate the American West are some of the greatest public-access land on this planet, available to us with little effort and little or no expense. no. Few things put the mind at ease like a night on natural terrain, a bedroom under the stars.
Yet with any hobby there is what I like to call an illusion of gear. That is, in a society that has monetized every desire and impulse, the intentional misdirection that says the hobby is mostly about your gear and less about the enjoyment of the activity itself and learning along the way. Sports cars, as a hobby, adhere to the illusion of equipment. The number of people who continually upgrade their car as they become increasingly unable to extract that performance is staggering.
I’m afraid overlanding is ripe for the same problem. Because while I’d love to upgrade my 2004 LX470 for this task, I’m already starting to get queasy watching how deep that rabbit hole goes. If I’m going to make it a good overlander, the available information suggests I’m spending thousands of dollars just planning a day trip. If I did that, companies would surely be giving away a lot of gear just for exposure, and by giving press to everything that comes in the mail, I’d be contributing to the gear illusion.
No, I want to start small. Because for the day trip camps I’ve done so far, my LX and Coleman tents have worked well. Off-road, I never got close to the limits of the Lexus. Rather than raising the ceiling of what he can do, I want to raise the floor of what he can handle. So instead of lifting it, I want to get off-road tires and some decent recovery gear to make sure I can go out on my own. I don’t need to swap out the diffs and suspension components yet, but I will need external fuel storage and a full-size spare of whatever tire I bring. I’ll never get it through enough sand or water to require a snorkel, but accessory lights will help.
These improvements seem worth it, even for an amateur. I’m pretty sure I’m not overdoing it, because if I’m going to spend any time off-road, those things are necessary. Where I’m most conflicted is on the living side of the landing equation, where you have to sort out where you sleep and what you bring.
The Instagram Brothers Say You Need a Rooftop Tent, Awning, Car Fridge, Drawer Storage System, External Storage and Upgraded Accessory Electrical System . The simplest version is a tent, a cooler, and whatever else I can throw into the cargo area. Most of what I’ve read suggests that all of these upgrades are worth it, but I have to wonder how many nights you need to be on the trail before a $3000 rooftop tent will make up for the cost of its brothers on the ground $300.
I guess there’s only one real way to find out. To make sense of it all, I’m going to try to build my ideal landing rig. I will rely on the community and my contacts to determine what is worth testing. If a company sends a sample to test the LX. I will tell you directly if the product is worth it. By the end of the project, my goal is to find out what you really need to enjoy an earthly adventure and what is part of the gear illusion.
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