For a while now I have been toying with the idea of building a small portable camper for when I go camping and to music festivals. I have really been a fan of the teardrop campers. They are neat little campers that are nothing more than a comfy bed and storage space that you tow behind you.
There are plenty of plans for building these things out on the web, however for the time being I decided against it due to cost and complications. I would have to buy a trailer base first, and those run around two hundred dollars. Then I would have to get the trailer registered, and finally install a hitch on my car or truck. Although I might build one one day, I have other ideas in mind.
The teardrops are neat, however I always thought that gypsy trailers are much cooler looking. These gypsy trailers are called ’vardos’ and the one I like the best is the ’Bowtop vardo’ which has the rounded top. These vardo’s are certainly cooler than the teardrops, however I still have the same trailer complications.
An ideal solution for a camper for my truck would naturally be the CabOver camper, those campers that fit right in the truck bed. They are neat campers, however I always thought they were a bit red-neckish. However you do not have to get them registered or anything, just put them in the back of your truck and you are off.
Musing a bit, I decided to build my own camper that sits in the truck bed, but make it look like a gypsy wagon. It will be build out of lightweight framed plywood and when it is done I’ll give it a sweet gypsy paintjob. Below is my rough design after talking some measurements from my truck. It will not be very big, but it’s big enough for a bed and some small storage.
The total width will be seven feet. This will allow one foot hanging off either side of the truck, which I do not think will be too much. Since I am six feet tall that should give me plenty of room to stretch out on a bed, which will be placed cross-wise. I can add storage cabinets under the bed. I have some wasted space in the truck bed due to the humps in the metal made by the wheel wells, however I decided it will be a lot easier to build a box-bottom that slides in than trying to construct some sort of I-shaped bottom.
I was going to go to a renaissance festival in Gainsville this weekend, but instead I think I will stay at home and get to work on this. I need to finish it by mid-February due to the simple fact that that is when Alan goes back out west and I am going to need his help loading it into my truck. It is an ambitious but not overly complicated project and it should be a lot of fun to build and use.
2026 Update
I'm dialing to March 2008, where Ed is skipping a renaissance faire to build a seven-foot-wide plywood vardo.
Oh, Ed. In 2008, a trailer base cost two hundred dollars and the biggest obstacle was a trip to the DMV. Now you'd need a spreadsheet to compare subscriptions for glamping pods, a deposit on a sprinter van, and an app to find a campsite with Wi-Fi so you can livestream your van life. The free web plans you mentioned? They're either gone, paywalled, or replaced by sponsored videos where someone builds a 'luxury micro-cabin' with tools that cost more than your truck. Plywood itself used to be a humble material; now it's a luxury good that makes you consider a second mortgage. You wanted a cabover camper but thought it was redneckish, so you designed a seven-foot-wide box that hangs a foot over each side, painted like a gypsy wagon, and you needed Alan's help to load it. That's the 2008 spirit: ambitious, slightly dangerous, and dependent on a friend showing up. Today you'd probably be explaining your 'aesthetic' to an insurance adjuster.
“2008 Ed, why did you think a seven-foot-wide plywood vardo hanging one foot off each side of your truck was a safe idea, and were you really planning to finish by mid-February when your post is dated March 17?” — Beelzebubba the Third
2008 Ed: Well, Beelzebubba, you’ve gone and poked the sore spot. Safe? Ha. I’ll be honest, that plan is probably a solid 6.7 on the bad-idea scale. One foot hanging off each side is fine until you hit a gust of wind or a love bug sneezes, and then you’re towing a plywood carnival float down I-4. I figured low speed, back roads, and pure stubbornness would hold it together. I also figured I could finish by mid-February because that made sense back in, oh, December. Then life happened, as it always does. By March 17, Alan was already gone and my grand gypsy wagon was still a sketch on graph paper and a pile of two-by-fours. So no, I didn’t finish. I’m lucky I didn’t start. Take that, deadlines.
