Simon Wilkinson runs Pride Equipment, his one-man heavy equipment repair business, out of Hillcrest, Alberta, Canada. He spent more than five years building his “dream” service truck in his spare time.
He started with a used, four-wheel-drive 2001 FL80 Freightliner chassis that was originally an oil field pump truck. He grafted a hood, fenders, and engine bulk-head from an FL112 Freightliner semi to its high-clearance 4WD chassis. A used Service Trucks International (STI) ser-vice body was shortened to 14 feet and installed, along with a Tiger hydraulic crane, a Miller Trailblazer 325 welder/ generator, and a Vanair hydraulically driven air compressor.
“It was everything I wanted in a service truck,” he said. “I couldn’t have been hap-pier with the way it worked in the field.
”Then, in February 2025, the 42-year-old Wilkinson and his dream truck slid off a logging road and rolled down a mountain side. They eventually slammed into a monstrous fir tree, destroying the cab, service body, crane, and accessories. The truck’s frame was twisted 1-1/2 inches out of square by the impact, though Wilkinson himself was unharmed and undeterred.
“The insurance company said it was a total loss,” he explained. “I could’ve taken the settlement and bought a different truck, but that oil field truck had a custom oilfield drive train and suspension that I wouldn’t have been able to duplicate. So, I decided to do whatever I needed to rebuild my truck. North America is a big place—I figured I should be able to find the parts and pieces I needed.
”A frame shop straightened the twist-ed frame. He found and bought wrecked trucks in Alberta and British Columbia to donate parts. The insurance settlement funded the donor parts trucks, repairs to the chassis, and a new Tiger 1069 hydraulic crane.
Wilkinson personally covered the difference between the insurance settlement and the total cost of the rebuild.
“The wreck was inconvenient,” said Wilkinson stated to this magazine in a massive understatement. “I worked out of a pickup truck while I rebuilt it. I knew what I needed to do to get what I wanted. I’d already done it once.”
The ability to roll with punches can be traced to his roots in Great Britain. He left school at 16 and joined the military, where he trained as a mechanic.
“The military throws you directly into the deep end,” he recalled. “You have two choices: figure out how to fix things, or… figure out how to fix things. You learn to be very self-reliant.
”While in the military, he was posted in Alberta and took a liking to those environs but was transferred back to England. When he left the Queen’s service, he worked for several heavy equipment shops as an off-road mechanic. He eventual-ly purchased his own service truck and worked as an independent mechanic for those same companies. But the mountains of Alberta stayed in his mind.
“Fast-forward 20 years,” he mentioned, “and I’m back in Alberta fixing heavy equipment with a rebuilt truck that’s big-ger and better than when it was wrecked, doing what I enjoy. I love working in the bush, being self-employed, and being my own boss. No cell service, just me and my truck, trying to figure out how to fix a machine. Plus, I have the most scenic commute in the world.
”Wilkinson’s military training and sub-sequent real-world, on-the-job experiences have equipped him to handle just about any off-road repairs. He said that he gets particular satisfaction from tasks that sty-mie other mechanics.
“I like getting a call where another mechanic has given up, and it’s up tome to make things right,” he mentioned. “Even little things like broken bolts that other mechanics couldn’t get out. Give me a few special tools, some tricks I’ve learned, and a dose of patience, and I’ll get those bolts out. I don’t give up—I just keep trying harder till I win.
”Wilkinson acknowledged that his wreck, though “inconvenient,” helped him improve his service truck.
“It gave me a chance to make a few changes I’d had in mind,” he said. “I was able to completely refurbish the cab so it wasn’t full of drilled holes and scars from its days as an oil field truck. I’m a little OCD, and that sort of thing bothers me.
”While the “new” truck is very similar to his old truck, the wreck encouraged him to alter at least one of his work practices.
“Rolling the truck was an eye-opener,” he laughed. “There was a lot of s**t flying around for a few seconds. That memory helps me keep stuff stowed and my cab a lot tidier.”


