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  I upgraded in 2015, when I bought and intermittently lived out of a 1993 Chevy G30  Hi-Cube, one of those classic ’90s vans your favorite indie band toured in. I took it back and forth across the country a handful of times. But on my last trip, temperatures rose over 100-degrees and the van was beset with all kinds of mechanical issues. It felt like a death trap, so I sold it and bought the Tacoma. In the two years since I’ve owned it,  I haven’t once used its off-road capabilities, aside from navigating some of the more treacherous potholes on Manhattan’s West Side Highway. I’ve come West to test it on a true expedition, and to understand how this kind of travel has become a way of life. The first morning at the expo, I’m nursing a coffee in my fold-out chair, partially obscured by the tree fortress I backed my truck into, when a neighbor comes by and asks if I’m hungry. Chris is an ex-Marine from Hot Springs, Arkansas—a big sturdy guy with a shaved head, a graying goa...