Every once in a while, something shows up on Facebook Marketplace that reminds you not all trucks used to be 6,000-pound declarations of personality. This Toyota Hilux is the opposite of what’s filling suburban driveways right now. It isn’t new. It isn’t "American-market". It isn’t particularly powerful. What it is, though, is exactly the kind of compact, properly sized utility truck we don’t get enough of anymore, and this one happens to have a factory-mounted mini crane bolted neatly behind the cab.
The listing that surfaced recently highlights what appears to be a Japanese-market Hilux from the late ’80s or early ’90s era. One of the old generations built around simple ladder frames and leaf springs—trucks that rode like trucks and weren’t afraid of work. Most ran Toyota’s famously stubborn four-cylinder diesels, often the 2L or 3L, paired to a five-speed manual and part-time four-wheel drive with a proper low-range transfer case. No drive modes. No terrain graphics. Just gears and mechanical honesty.
And then there’s the crane…
Not an aftermarket weld job. Not a sketchy shop experiment. A factory utility setup. The kind of small-capacity jib crane often used in Japan for light industrial or municipal work. Think small engines, compressors, and toolboxes. Mounted cleanly behind the cab and integrated into the bed, it turns a compact pickup into something closer to a mobile workshop.
I can’t help but immediately start thinking about how I’d use it. Collecting my bike from my local trails when I go hard and make mistakes. Loading a track bike solo without wrestling a ramp. Recovering a snowmobile that gave up halfway through the day. Hell, even just moving out of my apartment without bribing friends with pizza and beer. It’s not about the novelty. It’s about autonomy.
I’ve always had a soft spot for Hiluxes. I’ve seen them in Japan used as everything from race support vehicles to perfectly kept shop trucks that look like they’ve been quietly solving problems for decades. And I’ve driven one as a chase vehicle during a rally raid in South Africa, where the terrain didn’t care how charming the truck looked. What stood out wasn’t power. It was proportion. The wheelbase felt right. The visibility was excellent. The footprint made sense. It went where it needed to go without pretending to be something larger than it was.
Modern midsize trucks have grown into near full-size dimensions. The older Hilux lived in a different space. Compact. Honest. Accessible. You could load it without a ladder. You could see over the hood. You didn’t need a marketing campaign to understand its purpose. Add the crane, and the usefulness multiplies. You’re no longer just hauling bikes. You’re extracting them. You’re lifting engines without straining your back. You’re handling small mechanical disasters without waiting on someone else’s trailer.
It’s also rare…at least in the feeds I scroll. Most of what pops up are bloated, lifted, hyper-financed trucks with grilles the size of studio apartments. Seeing a compact Hilux with a factory crane feels like spotting something from a parallel automotive universe, one where tools are sized for people instead of parking lots.
Personally, this vehicle handles everything I would want out of a truck, from hauling to vehicle rescue to just riding ’round town looking cute as hell. Would I have paid the $22k price tag? I’ve spent more money on dumber things. So you can imagine how much I’d be willing to hemorrhage for something as useful as this Hilux.
No, you can’t order one from Toyota’s U.S. configurator. And no, this isn’t a preview of some nostalgic reboot. It’s just a reminder that trucks once existed in human scale—and occasionally, one shows up online that makes you reconsider your financial restraint. And looking at it, you can’t help but think about all the motorcycles, scooters, snowmobiles, and small mechanical disasters it could quietly rescue without ever asking to be the star of the show.
