Why None of My Vehicles Are Built “Wrong”

I own five different vehicles—and not one of them exists to do the same job. That’s intentional.

Years of owning, building, breaking, and rebuilding rigs have taught me that there’s no single “correct” way to set up a vehicle. The badge on the grille or the category it fits into doesn’t matter nearly as much as whether the setup matches its real-world use.

Purpose Over Popularity

One of the biggest traps in the off-road world is getting caught up in brand loyalty or rigid categories. Jeep vs. Toyota. Ford vs. Chevy. Solid axle vs. IFS. We spend so much time debating what a vehicle should be, instead of asking a much more important question:How is it actually being used?

At opposite ends of my garage sit two vehicles that perfectly illustrate this point.

Two Rigs, Two Jobs

On one end is my Jeep LJ—a dedicated rock crawler. It’s on one-ton axles, 40-inch tires, and built to handle hard abuse on technical terrain. It crawls, climbs, and conquers obstacles with ease. But outside of that specific role, it’s practically useless. I wouldn’t want to road trip in it, sleep in it, or count on it for comfort or efficiency. And that’s fine. Because none of those things are its job.

On the other end is my 2020 Ford F-150. It runs 35-inch tires and carries a canopy camper. It’s designed to haul weight comfortably, cover long distances, and keep me self-sufficient deep in the backcountry. It’s not built to crawl rocks, and I’m not trying to force it to be—no matter how tempting that can be sometimes. What it does well is carry gear, stay reliable, and make remote travel sustainable instead of exhausting.

Both rigs fall under the “off-road” umbrella, but they solve very different problems. Trying to make one act like the other would only compromise what makes each of them effective.

The Real Problem Isn’t the Parts

This disconnect is something we see all the time in the shop. When someone says their vehicle feels uncomfortable, unreliable, or frustrating to use—it’s rarely because the parts are bad. More often, the setup doesn’t match how the vehicle is actually being used.

Maybe the suspension was tuned for an empty truck that now hauls constant weight. Maybe accessories were added over time with no plan for power management. Maybe storage looks good on Instagram but is a hassle on real trips. These aren’t failures—they’re just part of the learning curve.

Build for Reality, Not for Labels

When I look at any of my vehicles, I don’t think in terms of overlanding, crawling, camping, or any other label. I ask myself:

• How often is it used?

• How far from help will I be?

• How much weight does it carry?

• What happens if something breaks?

Those answers shape every build decision I make. That’s why my Jeep LJ is unapologetically extreme, and why my F-150 is unapologetically practical.

The Takeaway

There is no wrong build—only mismatched expectations. Problems start when people chase someone else’s version of “right” instead of building for how they actually use their vehicle.

The goal isn’t to fit into a category. It’s to reduce compromise and make your rig work better for your trips.

If it does that, it’s doing its job.