The sun rising over Craggy Wash in Lake Havasu, Arizona.

Over the last few years, I’ve spent a lot of time on the road, traveling around the country, sleeping in Walmart parking lots and barren desert campgrounds. Van camping has had a moment over the last several years, as my fellow millennials take to the #vanlife lifestyle fad — converting regular commercial cargo vans into miniature mobile dwellings complete with subway tile, reclaimed wood, and vessel sinks.

But for every van dweller looking to save money while seeing the country, there are affluent individuals or couples who’ve poured tens of thousands of dollars into their dream rig outfitted with solar power systems and plumbing. After spending several months to a year in these vehicles — basically rolling micro apartments — it’s common to see them listed for sale with dreamy, washed out photos, lengthy passionate descriptions, and equally large price tags.

The antithesis to luxury van camping is traveling in a car, minivan, or pickup truck with little to no expense and effort building out a living space. School buses have also developed a following, considering how plentiful they are and inexpensive to obtain (typically only a few thousands dollars). There’s even a movement of people who travel the country living in and out of Toyota Prius hybrid cars — the true minimalists.

This past winter, I spent about six weeks living out of the back of a pickup truck. The prior winter, I had a GMC Safari (the sibling of the Astro van), but ended up selling it because I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to travel for another winter. I was able to, but couldn’t find a decent mid-sized van for the price I sold mine for. However, being in Chicago where large trucks aren’t in high demand, I found that my money would go much further with a pickup truck.

I was hoping to upgrade to a larger vehicle for this coming winter, but I’ve decided to save the money and camp out of the truck for another season. At least this time around, I can spend some time making sure everything is organized and cozy for the coming months out in the desert.

A truck can truly go anywhere

Taking a dirt road south of La Bufadora, Baja California.

One huge plus of a pickup truck is the option to have true four-wheel drive. Last year, I knew I was going to spend much of my winter in Arizona, but I also wanted to travel through Mexico a little bit. Off the main drags, the roads were pothole-ridden and eroded. I was also viewed as a resource to the people in van campers I was traveling with, as I was our group’s ad hoc tow vehicle.

The other thing is that small-mid size pickup trucks are pretty fuel efficient and can fit into a normal sized parking spot. This is a huge perk for when you’re planning on spending the night at a truck stop, highway rest area, or a big box store. You’re not taking up anymore space than what you need, and can always find street parking when visiting bigger cities.

The back of a pickup is surprisingly cozy

Waking up in Quartzsite, Arizona

At a solid 6’2″ tall, I need a lot of space length-wise to sleep comfortably. Last year, I did a big road trip in my Ford Focus hatchback, and at one point I tried laying down and sleeping in the backseat but could barely even fit. Needless to say, I wasn’t really able to get much sleep. However, a standard pickup truck bed measures 6’5″ long, meaning that there’s enough room — and just enough room — for tall people to sleep comfortable.

Between me and my dog being packed in with blankets in the back of the truck, it was also quite warm and cozy. When you’re ready to hit the sack, a small camp lantern or headlamp throws off enough light to find everything and get situated for bed. And when the sun starts to rise, you get lots of natural light. It’s probably the closest thing to sleeping outside without having to sleep on the ground.

Using the bathroom is not a fun affair

The sun sets quickly in the desert. It’s important to take care of everything before dark.

Camping out of the back of a pickup is a lot like tent camping in terms of space constraints. And just like tent camping, when nature calls in the middle of the night, you have to put some clothes on and get up out of the vehicle. Fortunately, I never slept in any conditions that were too cold, but having to wake up and get out of the truck once or twice a night to pee was and remains one of my least favorite things about truck camping.

The situation is even worse when it comes to having to go number two and/or showering out in the woods or desert. Portable toilets — simply a plastic toilet seat that snaps onto a regular bucket — are a saving grace in a pinch, otherwise, most big box stores and restaurants have public restrooms. Washing up can also be challenging. I used a weed sprayer as a cheap, portable shower and just tried to get as far back in the campsite for privacy.

Everything gets dirty and smelly quickly

Camping at Grand Teton National Park.

Even if you’ve taken a shower in the evening before bed, you still have stinky shoes and socks you hiked around in all day sharing the same space. Or better yet, maybe you decide to keep your dirty clothes in the truck cab while you’re asleep in the back at night. Even still, camping with a big dog who’s been rolling around in the dirt or playing in the ocean means that you’re going to end up with sand in your bed.

Another issue I ran into was trying to keep food cold while being out at a campsite. Traveling on a budget and with no build out, I was just using a basic plastic 30-quart cooler with ice. After a few days, the ice would melt and the cooler would start getting smelly. And then you also have your garbage to contend with, which can also get really gross and stinky if you have to carry it around with you for more than a couple of days.

Truck bed shells are leaky and drafty

Rain was always a big concern while camping in the truck.

Probably my biggest issue with spending multiple months sleeping out of the back of a truck was keeping everything dry. I purchased an old fiberglass shell I found on Facebook Marketplace, and while it was made specifically for my year and model truck, I ended up drilling through the rails to secure it with bolts. During rainy nights, it always leaked and dripped water from the bolts running through the fiberglass shell and truck bed rails.

Even after using a proper weather stripping, silicon caulk, and securing a tarp over the top of the shell, it would always somehow leak even in a light drizzle. It wasn’t a huge problem in Arizona where I could just open the windows and leave the tailgate down during the day to let everything dry out, but it did become an issue in Mexico at one point where it rained for two or three days straight.

The simplicity of truck camping is freeing

This was the view waking up in Baja.

Every night, I would go to bed shortly after it got dark out and woke up every morning with the sun. Sleeping in a simple vehicle with no amenities or creature comforts forces you to get back into a strict circadian rhythm. This has a tremendous impact on mood and energy levels — and I felt great. I loved waking up at 6:30 or 7:00, going for a short walk with the dog, coming back and having coffee and cooking breakfast and it only being 8:00 a.m.

I also loved laying in the back of the truck at night, having a few candles burning, providing just enough light to read. You’re not wasting time on the computer or flipping through your phone, you’re really going back to a more primitive way of living (OK, maybe it’s not that primitive, but certainly more stripped down and simple). And if you’re ready to move on after a few nights, it’s easy to pack up and back back on the road.