WORDS: Chris Hunter IMAGES: Lauren Beitel
att Allen has never been one to stick to a single lane. He got his start designing T-shirts in Laguna Beach, and over the years, built a name as an artist, illustrator, and photographer—collaborating with well-known brands and selling his fine art in galleries and online. And during his tenure as Art Director at Surfer magazine, he helped define the visual identity of the iconic publication. But somewhere between the canvas and the camera lens, his curiosity drifted toward tools, torque, and an entirely different kind of project: an electrified 1961 Scout® 80™.
This mash-up of art, engineering, and passion, was powered by Matt’s sheer desire to create. Even more fitting, this challenge took shape not by the ocean, but on a quiet farm in Iowa, where he set out to electrify one of the earliest production Scout® trucks—and without an iota of know-how to do so.
“I got into classic cars a few years back, just casually scrolling through listings on Bring a Trailer,” he says. “I’ve always been into old things, and with the classic cars I was drawn to vehicles that still existed in their original form, over some of today’s retro mods. Most Scout trucks were pretty untouched, and spoke to my vintage surf adventure proclivities.”
There was just one problem. Matt had zero mechanical background, so he reached out to his two uncles, Paul and David DeJong, who moved from California years earlier to build their farm in Iowa. They’re brothers with mechanical minds, decades of wrenching experience, and a tireless, grassroots, can-do spirit.
“They built a kit car in high school, restored classic cars, and even machined parts to customize their tractors. I figured, if anyone could help me do this, it was them.”
What followed was the kind of story only a Scout could tell, where tradition meets tech head-on.
“I wanted to keep the truck looking as stock as possible. This meant we had to try to hide 12 batteries. Figuring out where to put them, and how to get them there was challenging.”
Matt bought a run-down 1961 Scout 80™ from a family who didn’t even realize their Facebook Marketplace listing was still live. It didn’t run well, it leaked fuel, and after driving a few miles would get stuck in gear. But that didn’t matter: the combustion engine was never meant to stay.
Matt shipped the vehicle out to his uncles’ farm, left his surfboards at home, and joined them for what he hoped would be a month-long build. It turned into two grueling months of 12-hour days in the dead of an Iowan winter, immersed in wiring, battery systems, and drivetrain conversions.
The heart of the Scout 80 is now a HyPer 9 HV electric motor, which has a peak output of 90 kW and a solid 162 lbs.-ft of instant-on torque. It’s hooked up to Tesla Model S batteries which he purchased back in California—even meeting with the seller to test them before committing.
“I wanted to keep the truck looking as stock as possible. This meant we had to try to hide 12 batteries. Figuring out where to put them, and how to get them there was challenging.” Matt’s Uncle Paul used his plastic welding skills to build three custom battery boxes.
Most of the control and charging ancillaries are new though, sourced from the Santa Rosa specialist Thunderstruck Motors, and there’s a Netgain display so Matt can keep an eye on speed and battery charge. The crew at San Marcos-based EV West helped from a distance with advice and troubleshooting.
“There was no real roadmap,” Matt admits. “At that point we didn’t know of anyone doing a conversion on a Scout. We leaned on whatever knowledge we could glean from similar conversions on other vehicles of the same size, but there were a lot of gaps that we needed to fill in ourselves.”
While Matt humbly downplays his mechanical chops, his creative fingerprint is everywhere. “Amongst all of the wrenching and soldering, I filled my cup artistically by doing tasks like bending elegant curves into the brake lines.”
The control systems were hidden behind a telescoping dash panel, designed by Paul to keep the vintage look intact. “It drives like a Scout,” Matt laughs. “Quirky, noisy in low gear, sometimes stubborn. But having it still feel like driving an old Scout truck is part of the charm for me.”
The biggest issue was connecting the electric motor to the existing drivetrain. “We installed an aftermarket off-road drive shaft yoke on the transfer case. My uncle used his Fox Super Shop lathe to machine a repurposed taper lock pulley to connect our EV motor. Because we connected through the transfer case, the truck still has four-wheel-drive.”
The electric powertrain was just the beginning. To bring the Scout truck into the modern age, Matt and his uncles affixed front disk brakes, ran new brake lines with the necessary proportioning valve, and installed fresh shocks. A new set of wheels and tires helps grip the road, electric windshield wipers sweep the rain away, and LED headlights cut through the night without messing with the classic look.
Inside, they added seatbelts, a hidden cup holder, and a Bluetooth stereo system with new speakers, all tucked away to keep the dash clean. They even scrubbed and repainted the undercarriage. The goal was simple: upgrade the experience without losing the soul.
This Scout 80 may not be flawless, but in its imperfections lie all the lessons Matt was after. “I envisioned a smooth build and a triumphant return to California with a flawless conversion, but we didn’t get the truck running until my last day in Iowa, and much of the trouble shooting had to be done over the phone. But whenever something goes wrong it is an opportunity to learn more about the truck, and a chance to catch up with my Uncles.”
In a world leaning into AI and automation, Matt’s story is a reminder of the value of doing things the hard way. Not for nostalgia’s sake, but because there’s no shortcut to understanding.
“I used to think I didn’t have a mechanical brain,” he says. “But all it really takes is time, curiosity, and people willing to share what they know.”
Matt now drives the Scout 80 nearly every day. It’s more than a vehicle; it’s a moving testament to what can happen when art, family, and some good ol’ grassroots Midwestern grit come together.
