Her Tiny House Is Bolted to a Tundra

Rachel and her dog turned a 2015 Toyota Tundra into a rolling studio apartment with a pop-up OEV truck camper. Small footprint, rough roads, everything has a place.

First look: the truck doing house duty

The whole setup sits clean and tight on the Tundra—white camper on a silver truck, nothing sagging, nothing improvised. It looks like a house that decided it wanted four-wheel drive.

The kitchen figured out the space problem

Bamboo countertop on one side, aluminum cabinets below—it’s a simple, tough combo that makes sense the second you see it. Shiny, wipeable, and it doesn’t rattle like crazy.

One corner hides a small box with tea, spices, and cooking oil—tiny pantry, zero wasted space. Next to it, the workhorse: a compact air fryer that might be overqualified for this much countertop.

The sink folds down like a lid and somehow still has hot water. It’s the kind of little luxury that makes dish duty not terrible.

Under that, the whole cave of plates, pots, and utensils—pretty much everything scooped into a single cabinet so nothing has to live on the counter.

Cooking happens two ways: a small butane burner slides out for indoor meals; the big propane stove rides in the truck bed for outdoor sessions when the weather’s decent. Inside for quick, outside for smoky.

The fridge is a 69-liter Truma, so groceries don’t feel like a daily chore. It’s sized just right for a few weeks if they’re careful, with freezer space that’s not just pretend.

Fresh water lives low and hidden—a 20-gallon tank tucked away so it doesn’t steal a single inch of living room. Enough for a week if they’re not wasteful.

Power’s all buttoned up on a tidy panel: two 100Ah Dakota Lithium batteries fed by rooftop solar keep the laptops, cameras, Starlink, and, yes, the air fryer happy. The Victron brain makes the numbers make sense. Heat and hot water run off Truma gear, so the cabin stays civilized even when the weather’s not.

Outside, floods and work lights wrap the camper. Flip them on and the campsite turns into a backyard, which feels a lot less creepy when it’s just the two of them.

Desk by day, dog couch by night

The workspace is a bamboo Lagun table that swings exactly where it needs to—lap height for editing, out of the way for dinner. It’s the only desk that actually keeps up with a tiny room.

The couch looks normal until you touch it—waterproof covers so a muddy dog doesn’t ruin the day. Practical beats pretty every time out here.

Under the cushions, a long storage bin eats cables, hard drives, and whatever gear needs to disappear when it’s time to sleep. It’s the magic trick spot.

Along the wall, small bins for toiletries and a little shelf with a couple paperbacks. It’s not a library, but it reads like one.

The pop-top bedroom party trick

The bed is full-size with a slab of memory foam—looks like an actual bed, not a compromise. Soft edges in a metal box.

When the roof pops, the room goes from crouch to stand. Gas struts do the heavy lifting, and the whole camper breathes taller.

The platform bed pops too, revealing a clean, deep under-bed closet where all the clothes disappear. No plastic tubs, no avalanche when you open it.

Best flex: the big side window cranks all the way open so mornings show up right at pillow height. The view comes to the bed; nobody’s going outside yet.

Underneath it all, the truck got a spine

Old-school toughness with some upgrades: 2.5-inch Dobinsons lift to clear things, proper 35s from Kenda so the tires don’t chicken out, and Nomad Sahara wheels that look ready for a beating. It sits tall without feeling wobbly.

Outside pockets for the messy stuff

One exterior hatch is basically the dog locker—leash, bowls, towels, the chaos. It means the mud stops outside.

Another compartment carries the propane tank plus spare butane and propane bottles. Fuel lives together, easy to grab when the main tank runs low.

Water fill lives on the flank—pull up, hose in, done. It takes longer to coil the hose than to find the port.

There’s even more shallow storage along the side—straps, blocks, odds and ends that don’t deserve indoor space. Nothing rattles.

Built to get bumped around

The OEV Backcountry shell is lightweight but feels armored, like it expects washboard and welcomes it. It’s made to flex with the truck, not fight it, which is probably why it’s still square after long dirt miles.