Redneck Truck Cap

Hey, don’t laugh. Okay, maybe laugh a little. But yes, it’s mine. That charming wooden box strapped to the back of our pickup like a rustic time capsule from 1973? That’s our Redneck Truck Cap, and let me tell you, it’s a thing of beauty.

We needed a way to transport just a few animals—like a couple of goats, maybe a pig or two, or that one sheep that thinks she’s a rodeo clown—without dragging out the full-blown two-horse trailer every time. Hooking that thing up is like preparing a battleship for launch. Too much work for one goat who just needs to go visit her boyfriend at the neighbor’s place. (Don’t judge. We all have needs.)

But a real truck cap? You ever price one of those things? I’m not saying I’d have to sell a kidney, but I definitely considered putting a few pigs on Etsy—not that I'd ever get away with it.

So we did what all good farmers do when faced with a financial dilemma—we got scrappy. Jim and I built a box out of 2x4s and barn siding, solid as a rock, smells faintly of goats, and sized it to fit the truck bed exactly. We strap it down with ratchet straps (because zip ties and duct tape are only appropriate for temporary redneck fixes, and this baby is permanent-ish). The back even swings up like a real, honest-to-goodness truck cap. You’d almost think it came from the factory that way. . . at least a factory that was way out behind a barn.

And because we are nothing if not practical, the cap has been put to uses no factory ever dreamed of. One time we had to deliver a canoe to one of our kids who was borrowing it. We slid the canoe inside the truck cap, back hatch up, canoe sticking out the rear like a giant tongue, tied down with more ratchet straps than common sense. People passing us on the highway rubbernecked so hard I’m surprised there weren’t accidents. Once we dropped the canoe off, we didn’t waste a good trip. On the way home, we stopped to pick up a goat. Same truck cap, different cargo. The transformation from “canoe delivery service” to “goat taxi” happened in one day, proving once again that versatility is the true hallmark of redneck engineering.

On that same trip, we swung by to see my brother. Over coffee, he said, “You’re not going to believe this—I saw the weirdest thing on the highway today. Somebody had built a wooden box on the back of their truck, and they were hauling a canoe sticking right out the back of it!” I nodded, kept my face straight, and said, “Really? That is strange. Wonder what that was all about?”

It might not win any awards at the county fair, but it gets the job done. Plus, it’s weatherproof enough that the goats don’t complain the whole ride—mostly.

So yeah, call it what you will—hillbilly engineering, Yankee stubbornness, redneck creativity with a North Country accent. I call it practical. And besides, a real farmer knows that function beats fashion every time.

A-yup.

Customer Reviews:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ —“We were skeptical at first, but there was hay on the floor and nobody made us wear seatbelts. 10/10—would poop in it again.”—The Goats

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ —“Spacious. Breezy. Smelled like goat feet. No snacks were served, but we found a Cheerio in the corner. Four hooves up.”—The Pigs

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ — Smooth ride, good breeze, though my tail stuck out the back. Would borrow again.”—The Canoe

Please leave a comment below. I love hearing from you.