The ever-accessible small Japanese pickups from the 80s and even 90s are finally starting to age out of their affordable all-purpose work and leisure vehicle roles. But these famously resilient vehicles are nothing if not tough and can overcome the most unexpected hardships. So it should come as no surprise that this rare 1973 Toyota Hilux pickup survived being decapitated by a tree limb and continues to soldier on nearly unfazed.
This travel-weary pickup started out life as an early second-generation Toyota Hilux pickup which arrived for the 1973 model year. Although the Hilux badge was still on their front fenders, Toyota stopped referring to them by that name in ads and PR materials in the US with this new generation. Starting in 1975, the Hilux badges were also gone. It was now just “Toyota Pickup” or “Toyota Truck”.
This generation of pickup lasted until 1978, building the solid reputation of its niche predecessor into a force to be reckoned with. Toyota sales really picked up in this period; cheap, dependable compact pickups like this one were a key part of the brand’s expansion. It would take until the early 80s for the Big Three to finally bring a domestically designed and built product into this market space, so for a brief time, the imports had the segment all to themselves.
But a truck in this condition doesn’t immediately bring to mind the history of small trucks in America. Instead, it begs the question, “Dude, what happened to your truck?”
From the non-factory custom-fixed half doors to the not-quite full-height plexiglass windscreen bolted to a spindly roll cage with a flappy canvas top, everything is not as it was when this truck left the factory. The modifications are clearly carefully conceived, but other damage to the truck implies the backyard convertible conversion was done out of necessity, not choice.
Seen here in this same spot in 2010 thanks to the watchful eye of Google Streetview, it was a cheerful, intact Hilux, full of life. Now, it’s the automotive equivalent of Mike the Headless Chicken.
However, that brings up another remarkable feature of this decapitated truck. It’s been street parked without a roof for between 12 to 14 years based on Google Streetview sleuthing. That is an impressive run for a sawzall-special that lives outdoors. It moves in every yearly capture, so it’s presumably been in continuous use.
Of course, the interior is showing its 50+ years a little clearer thanks to the open air. That wooden seat repair doesn’t look very comfortable. When similar wire seat frame rust claimed the seats on my daily driver, I jammed newly structural plywood under the cushion, not on top, for reduced discomfort.
Even if this truck hadn’t lost its lid, the patina on it is just perfect. It’s not often you get to see that early Toyota logo on a street parked machine. Atlanta, Georgia doesn’t have nearly the same concentration of classic Japanese cars as the West Coast, where these brands got their start.
The checkered flag pattern below the Hilux emblem is a bit ambitious. This truck would have come from the factory with a 2.0 four cylinder making a reasonable 108 horsepower.
If ever there is a testament to the sheer endurance of old Toyota pickups, it’s this one. Not even losing its cab could keep it down. I think these early mini trucks fully live up to their reputation.
Related CC reading:
Curbside Classic: First Generation Toyota Hilux – Building Block
Curbside Outtake: 1971-72 Toyota HiLux, Still Ready for Work or Maybe Play
Bought a ’73 Hilux new that year as a daily driver. It rode hard unloaded, was rather crude in some ways: rubber floor mat wouldn’t stay put thin vinyl seats, fairly noisy and turned out to be just too small for a 6’1″ 220lb driver. Basically a good vehicle but not right for a big driver, so traded in on a ’74 SAAB 99 a year later… much better!
I’m flabbergasted it hasn’t rusted away yet .
Battered commercial vehicles of all stripes were common when I lived in Guatemala City .
-Nate
Given its location being parked outside without a roof, I’d imagine water has found its way in and out several times, taking a bit of the floor with it. But there’s not a lot of road salt to induce structural body rot in Georgia.