TEXT & PHOTOS: Ian McGee
omewhere between rustbelt roots and the glimmer of an electric future lives the heart of Scout® Nation — a world bound by stories, steel, and shared devotion. A gathering place where tailgates become pews, and horsepower and torque are the common tongue.
Welcome to the IH Scout and All Truck Nationals. The air carries the scent of oil, old vinyl, and fried dough — the unmistakable markers of tradition. In Springfield, Ohio, under a high summer sun and a soft diesel haze, the Scout family comes together — not just to show off what they’ve built, but to celebrate what they share.
They come from every corner of the country. Some drive 2,500 miles in trucks that rattle like pots and pans in a suitcase, white-knuckled through wind and rain. Folks like Dan and Josie Hayes of Binder Boneyard in Oregon don’t just restore these trucks — they live with them, in them, and through them.
And then there’s the other kind — the museum keepers. Rigs polished to a mirror shine, interiors so spotless you’d hesitate to sit in them. These Scout vehicles haven’t seen a dirt road since the Reagan years. They’re kept like Fabergé eggs — protected, pristine, and occasionally trotted out for those lucky enough to bear witness.
And somehow, it all works.
In vendor row, the vibe is like a rusted-out traveling carnival. Spare parts are everywhere: axles, dashboards, headlight bezels, quarter panels… history, meticulously boxed and tagged. With a big enough trailer — and wallet — a near-complete Scout truck could be pieced together from what’s here.
Dave from Scout Connection and the Hayes duo hold court, slinging steel from tailgates like old-time preachers with gospel to sell. It’s gritty, joyful work. Beautiful in the way even a junkyard becomes art when the sun hits it just right.
One attendee asks John Glancy — event organizer and unofficial high priest of Scoutdom — if he can sleep in his car that night. Missing any portion of this event, evidently, is not an option. That’s the kind of devotion on display.
Characters abound. Rocket Rex, as he refers to himself, shows up in a vintage International™ Scout hat, spinning stories that span Vietnam, moonshine stills, and motorcycle races. The line between fact and fiction blurs in the best possible way.
Then there’s Phil — part vendor, part myth. He helped build Scout trucks when they were new. Today, he sells parts to keep them alive. The kind of guy who doesn’t just remember the old days — he forged them.
Then come the Barbers — father and son, Sean and Owen, winners of their class in the NORRA® Mexican 1000® and the restoration specialists behind New Legend 4×4 and Anything Scout — rolling in with rigs still caked in desert dust. These aren’t museum pieces. These are battle-tested machines, built to endure.
A question lingers: why this level of obsession? Why cross the country to sweat in a parking lot full of old trucks?
Because there’s satisfaction in making something work. In wrenching, restoring, dialing it in. Every bolt, every fix, every busted knuckle brings it closer. But it’s never really done. There’s always one more tweak. That’s the sickness. That’s the joy. Like the cliché “the journey is the destination,” there’s meaning in maintaining this history.
Some get it. Some don’t. Either way, the story lives on.
And speaking of next chapters, the new Scout Motors concept vehicles are present this year, pulling curious crowds. A few purists scoff, sure. But most lean in. Maybe it’s the range extender. Maybe it’s the knobs and buttons. Maybe it’s the fact that Scout Motors is listening. Making an honest effort to avoid gimmicks and fluff — timeless designs reimagined with a future-forward edge.
A standing-room-only panel led by the Scout Motors team breaks down the new factory, the trucks, and the vision. And the crowd? They’re in. This is rare: a brand not talking at its people, but with them.
Nearby, the old International Truck factory still stands — stoic, weathered, and quietly monumental. Not a relic. A reminder. This isn’t nostalgia. This is a continuation.
And surprisingly, the crowd skews younger than expected. Gen Zs and late millennials gather around dashboards and tailgates like they’ve been here all along. Many were born after the last Scout vehicle rolled off the line. But it doesn’t matter. They get it.
This is more than a vehicle. It’s an idea. A lifestyle. A time machine with a license plate. At Nationals, it all shows up — chrome and gravel, electrons and oil. The past and future, idling side by side.
