If you’ve ever looked at your pile of random junk and thought, “This could be art,” congratulations — you’ve entered the DIY Holiday Zone. This is where two sad wooden crates, a random box, and one over-confident human become something that Pinterest influencers pretend to invent.
This is the story of my Christmas truck.
Let’s get one thing out of the way: I didn’t wake up thinking, “Oh yes, let me build a red pickup truck today.”
I simply stared at my yard and asked myself why I was still keeping those wooden crates like some retired vegetable trader. I wasn’t planning to stock potatoes for winter. I wasn’t going to start a farm. But throwing them away? Too emotional. I’m not a monster.
Then I stacked one crate on top of a box, and the universe whispered to me: “That… looks like a truck cab.”
I put the second crate behind it. Suddenly, I was no longer a woman with trash.
I was a visionary.
Pinterest be damned. I was doing this.
Everything I Used (aka The List That Makes You Feel Like You’re Prepared)
- 2 wooden crates
- 1 box (the width must match or everything will be chaos)
- 2 wooden beams
- 4 wheels
- 1 sheet of polystyrene
- Utility knife
- Red paint and black paint
- White glitter foam sheet
- Black foam sheet
- Silver duct tape (the star of this show)
- 2 disposable plates
- Glue gun
- Screwdriver or drill
- A Christmas branch or greenery
I know this looks simple.
That is a lie.
This DIY is 20% crafting, 30% improvisation, 49% chaos, and 1% praying the wheels don’t fall off.
How I’ve Made The Truck
I stacked the crates with the box in between and acted like I was designing a real vehicle. You know engineers with clipboards? That was me. Except the clipboard was a coffee cup and the calculations were vibes. The width must match. If it doesn’t, the truck will look like a melted LEGO set. Everything else? You’ll figure it out with enough existential dread.
I painted the whole thing red — both crates, the box, the beams. Red is powerful. Red is bold. Red says, “I’m decorated for Christmas and I will not be ignored.” Two layers of paint is the bare minimum. Pro tip I learned the hard way: Do not wear anything you like. Paint is a parasite. It will not come off.
Grab your drill and screws. This is where you feel unstoppable. I attached both beams along the bottom so the structure wouldn’t collapse like my willpower during the holidays.
Then I installed the wheels: front wheels roughly in the middle of the cabin rear wheels closer to the truck bed Could you skip wheels? Yes. Will the project lose 80% of its drama? Also yes. And if there are children around — they will demand movement. Respect their chaos.
Bumpers. Wheel arches. Headlights. Tiny door handles. This was the moment I asked myself, “What am I doing with my life?” Wood was too heavy. MDF too expensive. Then I remembered the polystyrene sheet sitting in my house like an abandoned promise. It’s cheap. It cuts easily. It weighs as much as a positive thought. I cut everything: front bumper, rear bumper, wheel arches, headlights, tiny handles that no one will notice but I suffer for anyway. Arches go red. Bumpers + accessories get wrapped in silver duct tape. Yes, duct tape. I am not ashamed. It looks like chrome if you squint and believe in miracles.
I wanted fake decorative wheels because plain sides looked like a sad abandoned trolley. So here’s what I did: Paint disposable plates black. Stick a foam circle in the middle. Boom — instant wheel hub. Cut the plate in half. Half a plate = one wheel. When it worked, I actually giggled. It felt like discovering fire.
The headlights are glittery white foam circles. Black foam rectangles became windows. All glued on with a hot glue gun, aka the weapon that decides whether your project lives or dies.
Hot glue respects no one. It will burn you. Accept it. You will also glue your sleeve to something. That’s the ritual.
I wrapped a string of lights inside the truck bed so it glowed like a Christmas fever dream. I sprinkled artificial snow over the windshield and the edges. The final touch? A tiny ZIL logo on the front — because nothing screams Christmas like subtle Soviet nostalgia.
Then I added a Christmas branch on the hood, and placed an artificial tree in the back. Suddenly, it was straight out of a Hallmark movie.
The final touch? A tiny ZIL logo on the front — because nothing screams Christmas like subtle Soviet nostalgia.
The Grand Result
I parked my truck on the porch. Every time I walk past it, I think, “Wow. Thank God I didn’t throw those crates away.” Guests smile. Kids stare at it like it could transform and drive away. I just enjoy it, because December is the time when junk becomes wonders and sanity takes time off. I love RED so much!