Couple summers back now, pulled off the 40 just west of Flagstaff because there’s this total piece of shit camper trailer just frigging BURIED behind this diner. No windows, three tires flat, a bird’s nest where the stove would’ve been. I didn’t have to have a project. But 10 minutes later, I was asking the owner if they’d sell it. They did. $400 and a slice of homemade banana bread.
So yeah — that’s where it begins.
You don’t “plan” to become the type of person who Googles best vintage campers to restore at 2:17 AM. It just… happens. And once you get started, it’s a rabbit hole — insulation dust in your hair, paint samples in your glovebox and an Amazon history littered with butyl tape and retro drawer pulls. This post? It’s for people like us.
I gathered a few of the coolest, cutest, weirdest and most worthwhile vintage campers that are ripe for restoration — and a few warnings along the way. We’ll discuss layout, leaks and whether your back is prepared for subfloor work (guess what — it’s not).
But first…
What’s the Cost to Gut and Restore a Vintage Camper?
Look. You know this won’t be free. But how bad is it?
Let’s dissect it with help from its emotional stages (and dollars):
- The “This’ll be fun!” phase — $2,000–$4,000
- **The “Wait, everything is bad” phase ** — $6,000–$12,000
- The “Well, it’s pretty much a new build at this point” stage — $15,000–$40,000+
That last one? And that’s for people performing comprehensive rewires and plumbing, installing custom cabinetry and throwing in solar panels — “just in case.” I’ve been there. It was a ride.
Remember, your time is a cost as well. And your relationships. (Shoutout to my partner, who didn’t leave when the kitchen turned into a sanding garage for three weeks.)
1. Shasta Airflyte — The Flirting One
Classic lines, sassy wings, a personality that says “I was prom queen in ’62 and still got it.”
Why it’s loved:
Lightweight, towable, and just, well, dumb cute. Great if you like the vintage look but you don’t want the size of a full-size truck.
Red flags:
Leaks. Everywhere. Corners, windows, roof seams — you know the drill. The caulk drawer is honey to the Shasta owner.
Pro tip:
If it smells like a hamster cage, keep on walking. Or… lean in. I did. And I miss that shag carpet.
2. Airstream Safari/Bambi — The Glam Option mentioned
This is the Beyoncé of campers. All curves and shine.
Why it’s loved:
Hard shell, classic design, resale value that’s out of this world. Halfway completed, you’ll still get cash offers from strangers at gas stations. Ask me how I know.
Red flags:
And polishing the aluminum is not for the faint of heart. And also some of the wiring setups from the ‘60s look like they were planned by sleep-deprived raccoons.
Pro tip:
Be prepared to open your wallet. But hey, you’re building a spaceship. It deserves the budget.
3. Scotty Serro — The Cinnamon Roll of Campers
Cute, tiny, likely older than your dad — yet somehow also functional.
Why it’s loved:
Small systems = less to go wrong. Scottys are snug little dens that feel like home after one cup of camp coffee.
Red flags:
They love to rot quietly. Particularly in the front window. Always tap the walls. If it tastes like cake, you’re doing it wrong.
Pro tip:
They’re perfect for single travelers or small dog/big heart travelers.
4. Vintage Truck Campers – The Rarest Of Them All
You didn’t think I’d list these, did you?
Why it’s loved:
Truck campers don’t get enough love. They’re compact, modular and they make you feel like a backcountry wizard.
Red flags:
Saggy overhangs, rotting back walls, strange smells you can’t quite identify. Also: you need a truck. Just saying.
Pro tip:
I saw it made into one mobile espresso bar. Dreams are real.
5. Boler/Trillium — Fiberglass Fantasy Eggs
An Innovative Solution to Traveling with an Infant in our Bolerometer (FMD – Fiber Mood Disorder) May 17, 2011 In our little Bolerometer, the Funky Mallard, space is an issue.
They appear to be from a cartoon. And that’s kind of the point.
Why it’s loved:
Light weight, aerodynamic, and resistant to rot. Their molded shell is a single piece — like an igloo, only cuter.
Red flags:
Keep an eye out for spider colonies in neglected corners. Also, they’re tiny. Hoh: Like… T-Rex can’t reach inside here.
Pro tip:
Ideal if you love minimalism, solo travel and squashing bugs off rounded fiberglass.
6. Avion — The Cool Uncle of Airstreams
Quieter, less expensive, just as shiny. Likely listens to vinyl and sips mezcal.
Why it’s loved:
All the glory of Airstream without the inflemination. Better layout options, too.
Red flags:
Outdated systems. Some still have pre-Nixon plumbing.
Pro tip:
Insulate well. These babies were made for all-season travel — and behave that way too in summer.
7. Winnebago Brave (Early Models) – The rolling brick
Big, loud, boxy. And weirdly beautiful.
Why it’s loved:
Full headroom. Lots of storage. Absolute road presence. This is an apertment that says, “I roadtrip!”
Red flags:
Mechanical gremlins. And another water damage that is fine until you sit on the dinette and crash through.
Pro tip:
You’ll loathe restoring it or you’ll be madly in love. No middle ground.
Before You Rip and Tear Out Paneling…
This isn’t about perfection.
It’s the act of showing up, one rusty screw and swear word at a time, and seeing something that started as junk slowly become yours.You’ll bleed. When your recently painted cabinet door cracks because you mismeasured the hinges, you’ll likely cry at least once. And you’ll totally stop saying “she’s got good bones” ironically But then, if you’re lucky, you’ll drink your morning coffee in a camper that you — yes, you — retrieved from the edge. And that, truly, is a bit of magic.