The Art of Community: How a Scout® Pickup Became Chris Norwood’s Connection Machine

The Art of Community: How a Scout® Pickup Became Chris Norwood’s Connection Machine
WORDS & IMAGES: Scout Motors
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f you ever find yourself in Miami’s historic Overtown neighborhood, look out for an immaculately restored blue Scout II™ Terra™. The suspension is lifted, the top will be off, and in the pickup bed, you’ll likely see neatly packaged artworks being delivered to destinations unknown.

This pickup belongs to Chris Norwood, a man of many missions. Most Overtown locals will know him as the co-founder of the Hampton Art Lovers gallery, housed in a beautiful old building called the Ward Rooming House. But Chris’ interests run to much more than art. 

 

He’s also a consultant for institutions building local communities, a volunteer for children’s causes, and a member of the editorial board of The International Review of African American Art.

 

“In Overtown, we curate various exhibitions focused on the African-American experience,” Chris explains. “The Art gallery’s purpose is to present art that reflects the community in which the gallery exists, and as a place where community can come together.”

Chris is the very definition of a well-connected man, and his connection to Scout® trucks goes back over 35 years—right back to his early days, growing up in Newark, New Jersey. 

 

“I had a Scout Traveler when I graduated high school in 1990,” he tells us. “A neighbor sold the truck to my family. The truck was used for his dog training service, so he had a picture of a dog and his number on it,” which remained even after Chris took ownership.


“I think it was a ’76. It was rusted out on the floor, and it had no key—you just turned the ignition. It started every time! And every time I got in it, I had to go to the gas station immediately! The gas gauge didn’t work,” he laughs. 

 

“It was a beat-up truck, even then. But as a kid, that was my first car, and it meant everything to me. I called it ‘The Dog Catcher’ and I would pick up my boys—my dogs—and everybody knew it was me. It was red with a white top, and it was like the posse truck.”

“If I'm going to get a truck—an old truck—I'm going to buy the one I really want.”  

An unfortunate fender bender on the way to college in Virginia put an end to that Scout Traveler™. But Chris never forgot about it.

 

“As I became an adult and moved on in my life, in the back of my mind I felt that if I ever get the chance, I’m going to get a restored Scout [truck]—or I’m going to restore one myself.”

 

Chris moved to Miami for law school in 1999 and stayed in the area. After founding the art gallery, he realized he needed something bigger than a sedan to transport art. 


“If I’m going to get a truck—an old truck—I’m going to buy the one I really want.”  

Chris made his move during the Covid pandemic, and his choice was a 1976 Scout Terra living the good life in North Carolina. “It was like a beach cruiser. I had pictures of what it used to look like, so I re-engineered it, slowly doing the things that I wanted to do.”

 

Miami is the ideal place to give an old vehicle a new lease of life. “It’s probably one of the best and cheapest places,” says Chris, “because it’s such a big immigrant community, particularly from Central South America and the Caribbean. People are so used to keeping old things going.”

“It’s inspired me about what community really is. They don't know who I am. They don't know where I'm from. They don't know anything about me. All they know is I own a Scout [truck], and that's all that matters.”

Chris kicked off the restoration with a solid stint of research, sleuthing for both information and parts. As anyone who has been down that path will know, the odd hiccup is inevitable. 

 

In Chris’ case, it happened when he took the Terra truck to a well-known automotive service center to get a new exhaust system fitted. 

 

“They threw my keys back to me three days later. But they sent me to a guy in an area called Allapattah. He has a driveway between two other garages, and all he does is exhausts. He speaks no English. “I’m like, I need to get my entire exhaust done! He said, ‘$300. Come back in the morning.”

 

The new exhaust is now hooked up to the original motor—of sorts. Chris shipped the engine to a specialist in Spokane, Washington who remanufactured it using new parts, often machined from upgraded materials.

More obvious to onlookers is the suspension lift. “I’ve been playing around with the lift over the years,” says Chris. “I’ve been trying to figure out where exactly I want it. I think I probably have about a 3.5” lift on it now.” 

 

Keeping everything under control is a new high-performance brake system from D&C Extreme. There’s a hardtop for the truck too, but Chris never uses it. (“I have a convertible pickup truck all the time. Even if it rains a little bit, I don’t care.”)

 

Sit behind the wheel, and you’ll notice an elegant custom dash, crafted from African mahogany. “I got an artist friend who does things with wood. It took him about two months because he had to measure it and figure out the curvature in the body. And then he carved in the dash an ode to his past: Dog Catcher, Too.

 

Years later, Chris is still making tweaks to get his ride exactly as he likes it. But he draws the line at an engine swap. “I refuse to do an LS conversion. I don’t care what anybody says.”

If there’s a sign that a vehicle is much-loved, it’s having a name. And the name of Chris’ Terra is Big Shirley Mae. “I lost my mother when I was 13,” Chris explains. “And lost my father before I was born. So I named the truck after my mother, and nothing is too good for Big Shirley Mae.”

 

Shirley has lots of friends too. “One of the beautiful things about that truck, I always tell people, is how it’s allowed me to rediscover Miami. Because I’ve been all over this community getting things done to my truck. 

 

“It’s been a delight finding mechanics and people to work on it, people who appreciate old American engineering. And it’s started numerous conversations with people that I would never talk to otherwise.”


A lot of those conversations have been with other Scout truck enthusiasts. “The community of Scout owners is a powerful space to be in. Because whatever you need, whatever you’re thinking about, whatever problems you have, all you have to do is engage that community—and you get the answer.”

“It’s inspired me about what community really is. They don’t know who I am. They don’t know where I’m from. They don’t know anything about me. All they know is I own a Scout [truck], and that’s all that matters.”

 

Chris believes his gallery is a similar conduit for community and art is a way that bonds people through a shared dialogue about culture. “I think culture brings people together because I don’t care who you are. I don’t care where you come from. I don’t care what you do. I don’t care what your mindset is. I want you to look at this [art]. Look at this with me, and then let’s talk.”

 

Despite being hooked on the vintage vibe, Chris is equally enamored with the new Scout concepts.

 

“I love the thoughtfulness. I think their effort to capture the essence of what Scout is about is great. I love the way the Traveler [SUV] looks. I love the way the Terra [pickup] looks. I love the little things that they’ve proposed in it, and I love the trajectory of where they’re trying to go. It’s the spirit of the engineering.”

 

Chris obviously has good taste. He’s also a fascinating character with enormous life experience and an innate understanding of what makes society tick and is always looking for the next thing to drive him forward.


Aside from Big Shirley Mae, of course.