Full disclosure — this is a love letter to my truck. It has been a constant, reliable friend for many, many overland adventures. Clocking in at over 115K miles, my Ram truck is still going strong. My truck has brought me paddling, skiing, fishing, backpacking, camping, climbing, and to countless post-hike vittles. Most importantly, the Ram 1500 in my driveway is my hunting buddy.
When I say this, you must understand — my truck and I learned to hunt together. We learned to tow an RV to hunt camp together. I bought my truck and then a small travel trailer, so I could withstand the cold, wet nights at hunt camp.
I didn’t know how to tow an RV and was so very proud of myself when I was able to use the back-up camera1 to line up the hitch and the ball. I’ll admit, it took a couple of tries. The feeling of finally having the rig hitched up? Unforgettable.
Once the truck and RV were hitched together, we hit the road. We traveled all over the state, from coast to mountain. Rainforest to plains. This truck has brought my travel house all over, seeking food sources.
It’s backed the trailer down a logging road after coming upon a big tree blocking our path. It’s hauled coolers, smokers, and bins of hunting gear. It’s the way into the hunting grounds, and the way home.
My Ram truck doesn’t stop hunting.
We get up early — so often, too early. Get our packs loaded — optics, rangefinder, safety gear, first-aid kit, field dressing supplies — throw the pack into the back of the truck. Don’t forget the snacks — this gal likes her snacks in the field.
My hunting partner hops in the cab with you. It’s quiet. It’s dark out as you make the drive to the country where you’ll be hiking in, with high hopes of filling the freezer today.
That drive, it’s magical. You share a cup of coffee with a trusted friend. You catch up on life; share the stories now so you are quiet once you get out of the truck. All your conversations are edged with the possibilities of the day ahead. It adds an air of anticipation and eagerness.
You’re glad to be together to experience it. Before a day in the cold, hard field, the truck is warm, safe, and comforting.
Finally, you pull into the parking area. Oooh, that great feeling when your truck is the only one there. Check the light — can we hike out yet to get into position? OK, it’s time to load out.
There’s a fine layer of snow on your packs in the back. Layer up. Lace the boots tight. Chamber your round, safety on. In this moment, you couldn’t lose. You’re here to feed your family, and it’s go time.
It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been hunting, your hunting style, or location — the odds are usually against you. Most of my hunts are not successful. I have hiked miles and miles all day without seeing a single thing. I have stalked whitetail deer for miles, just to come around a bend and lose all tracks, the deer nowhere to be seen.
There have been more days I returned to the truck with mushrooms I foraged along the way than days I returned with an animal. I’ve broken in new boots, feet painful with blisters, biting back tears by the time I get back to the truck. Disappointment after disappointment, one thing that never fails is being happy to see my truck.
As soon as I round the last bend, or crest that last ridge, and get sight of my truck, I know I can let the load down. I’ve made it back, and ahead of me is a heated seat2, a dry shelter, some time off my legs, and snacks.
I smile, I thank the universe for leading me back to the truck, and I get a little extra pep in my step all the way to the tailgate. Throw my things down, warm up the heated seats2, eat some lunch — I’ve made it back.
Here’s the crazy thing about hunting — no matter how hard it is, how many times you fail, what you give up to spend that time in the field — the connection to our food, to the wild lands we live in; it keeps you going back.
We are linked to this rugged country we call home, and it draws us back in. After every failure, I’m just more motivated to work harder, hunt smarter, and be better. Be wilder, more connected to the hunt. So I do it again.
The truck brings me back to camp, and I fall into bed exhausted, swearing I’ll never go back out in the morning. A mere few hours later, I find myself grabbing my truck keys and my pack, and getting after it again.
The bold and pure commitment to the hunt, it does eventually pay off. And everything you’ve been through, the lessons, the failures, the time, the pain — it’s all worth it when you finally fill your tag. I thought it was great seeing the truck at the top of that last ridge, but it is so much better when you see the truck and you’re dragging out.
You make it to the truck, and once you have your animal in the truck bed, you shamelessly happy dance like a little kid (or at least, I do). You did it. You’re filling the freezer this year.
It only gets better when you arrive at camp, drop the tailgate, and show the rest of the crew how well you did. Recounting the day and the laughter echoing through the woods. That night, sitting around the fire, eating a meal from your harvest, you know you’ll be back next year.
Me and my Ram truck, we’re not stopping. See you at hunt camp.
Ram 1500
Built to deliver upon the legacy of the Ram Trucks that came before it, the 2026 Ram 1500 is roaring in with a redesigned exterior, a luxury interior, a bold new powertrain under the hood, and technology at nearly every turn.
This post is sponsored by Ram Trucks.
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