Some projects begin with months of research, careful inspections and a sensible budget.
This one began with a lowball offer on Ricardo.
In August 2025, I decided I wanted a Toyota Land Cruiser. There was no detailed plan behind it yet. I simply liked the idea of owning something old, mechanical and capable—something that could eventually carry tools, camping equipment and perhaps even support future Rottweiler Motors adventures.
So I started scrolling.
Then I found it.
A short-wheelbase Toyota Land Cruiser KZJ90 wearing tired paint, oversized off-road accessories and the unmistakable look of a vehicle that had lived several different lives.
It was also the cheapest one I could find in Switzerland.
My shitbox.
An Offer I Didn’t Expect Anyone to Accept
I had not seen the vehicle in person. I had not put it on a lift. I had not checked the rust properly, inspected the wiring or confirmed whether all the parts fitted to it actually belonged there.
Instead, I sent the seller an offer low enough that I assumed the conversation would end there.
He accepted.
Suddenly, I owned a Land Cruiser near Fribourg.
A Day Trip with Lea
My wife Lea and I decided to turn the collection into a day trip. We took the train from Zurich, travelled across Switzerland and arrived with the optimism of two people who had not yet driven the vehicle they were about to take home.
Seeing it in person confirmed two things immediately.
First, it had character.
Second, it was in much worse condition than I had hoped.
The first proper look. At this point, the list of future repairs had already begun.
There was rust everywhere. Parts were missing. Some components had been replaced with pieces that did not match the vehicle. Electrical cables had been cut or pulled out. Previous repairs ranged from temporary to incomprehensible.
It was not an old four-wheel drive that needed a service.
It was a restoration project that happened to start.
The Drive Back to Zurich
We completed the paperwork, loaded our bags into the cabin and pointed the Toyota towards Zurich.
The sensible choice would probably have been a trailer.
We drove it home.
The Land Cruiser barely made it.
Every unfamiliar noise sounded expensive. Every vibration suggested that something underneath us was preparing to leave the vehicle. The steering required attention, the brakes required faith and the entire cabin carried the atmosphere of a machine that had not been treated gently.
It was also enormous fun.
Lea drove part of the way too, which somehow made the whole thing feel less like a disastrous purchase and more like the beginning of a shared adventure.
By the time we reached Zurich, the Toyota had revealed enough problems to make one thing clear: I had not bought a cheap Land Cruiser.
I had bought a very expensive project at a very cheap entry price.
This Is Just the Beginning
That first drive home from Fribourg was only the beginning.
Since then, the Land Cruiser has spent more time on axle stands than on the road. Rust has been cut out, brakes have been rebuilt, wiring has been repaired and countless missing or incorrect parts have slowly been replaced.
Every finished job reveals another one waiting underneath. That's simply part of bringing an old Land Cruiser back to life.
The goal has never changed. I want to turn this tired old Toyota into the Rottweiler Motors Truck—a reliable support vehicle for motorcycle adventures, camping trips and countless kilometres on and off the beaten track.
There's still plenty of work ahead, but that's part of the fun.
I'll continue sharing updates here in the Journal as the project progresses. With a bit of luck, the next update won't be too far away.
Until then, the workshop lights stay on.