1962 International Scout

Engine - 152ci Slant 4cyl - International Harvester
Transmission -  T90 (3 Speed) / D18 Transfer Case
Suspension - Original Leafs with Rough Country Shocks. Running Series 3 Land Rover differentials.
Equipped For - Farm work and around town.

What drew you to the International Scout?

Coming from a Ford family, I was always interested in the Early Ford Broncos and even had a poster of one on my bedroom wall. They’re super rare in Australia though, fetch a pretty penny, and never came in RHD. My best mate had a Series 2 Landy, and at 6'7", I barely fit in the cabin. So when I decided to get into camping and adventures, I knew I needed something with a bit more legroom. My cousin then pointed me toward the International Scout. It had the same rugged charm as the Bronco but with the bonus of fitting all my limbs inside the cabin without having to choose which ones. Some even say the Scout inspired the Bronco, but let’s not start that debate right now.

It took me a couple years of scouring the internet, diving deep into Facebook groups, old-school club pages, and sifting through Gumtree (before it went south). Scout 80s rarely come up for sale, and the ones that do usually look like they’ve been in a Mad Max movie. The exposed steel tubs mean most have rusted through, and you’re more likely to see them in front yards as ‘art pieces’ than on the road.

Then, one day, this guy posted on a dedicated Scout group about one he found on a deceased estate. He was flipping it for a profit (I think it was his side hustle). He was asking a small fortune for it, and nobody was biting. Most of the people in the group already had a Scout or two and weren’t about to mortgage their homes for another one, so it sat there for a while.  But I saw the hidden gem underneath. It was original, had an aftermarket LowLine canopy installed from the factory (so no water ever sat in the tub), and the bench seat was intact without a single rip. Plus, it came with a bunch of spare parts, tools, and random junk in the back that probably hadn’t seen daylight since the 70s.

I was convinced it was the only one left in such condition. After some tense price negotiations, my buddy Dane and I did a marathon 6-hour drive from Sydney to Eden to seal the deal. We loaded it up, turned around, and drove straight back, both of us buzzing on the excitement of my new project.

What was the condition of the Scout when you got it, and what work have you done to restore or modify it?

Honestly, when I first got it, the Scout was holding itself together with sheer willpower and a bit of luck. Every rubber seal had crumbled away, with some of the windows already fallen out. The water pump and exhaust had rusted through sometime during the 90’s, the fuel system was caked with dirt. But I wanted to keep its rugged, “I’ve seen some things” look, so I aimed for tasteful restorations rather than a full makeover. I gave it a complete service to make it roadworthy, put a clear coat in the tub to preserve the original wear and tear, and rebuilt the old canopy to ensure it didn’t collapse in on itself.

People always ask if I’ve done a lot of work on the car, and I usually downplay it—“Ah, just a little here and there.” But, to be honest, just getting it clean, running, somewhat reliable, and looking halfway decent has meant working on nearly every single surface and part of the Scout. It’s just part of the deal with an old 4x4 like this. I’ve pulled the gearbox twice, and that’s just for leaks and clutch issues alone.

The hardest part has been deciding whether to pour time and money into fixing what’s there or just replace it with something newer and less likely to leave me stranded. It’s a constant battle between preserving the original and making it a little more functional for everyday use. Do I really want to spend three weekends fixing shocks and spring bushings when my current diff setup doesn’t even let me turn around roundabouts properly? Or should I just bite the bullet and slap in some Jeep Dana 44s? Preserve the history or make it actually usable. It’s that same decision every time, for every part and every issue.

Did you source original parts, or have you modified the Scout for modern reliability or performance?

I’ve been pretty lucky when it comes to finding original parts—there was a stash of NOS bits that came with the car. Plus, when I first bought it, my local auto parts store even had an old filter for it that had been sitting on the shelf since 1998. Most other parts, though, I’ve had to track down from the US, where these cars have a bigger fanbase and better parts availability.

I’ve made a few tasteful upgrades, like adding electronic ignition, new shocks, and painting the floor with a paint-matched bed liner (shout-out to Shaun Maluga for the idea). I even added interior lights from a NOS 1960s motorcycle indicator set and threw on a steering-wheel knob so I don’t need a gym membership just to make a turn. And like a true Wogboy, there’s a subwoofer hidden under the seat, thanks to my mate Faidon (Watt Audio) who makes these sneaky little Bluetooth amps. But other than that, it’s all ‘original’.

How does the Scout perform off-road, and what modifications (if any) have you made to enhance its capabilities?

“Low and slow” is the Scout’s motto. It’s got enough torque in low range to claw its way up a tricky fire trail, and once you’re out there, it’s a blast. But getting to those remote spots is where it gets... interesting. With a top speed of 85 kph and gas mileage that makes you wonder if it’s secretly siphoning fuel, it’s more of a scenic crawl than a quick drive. There plenty of time to bond with your passengers as you wave to other cars flying past.

What makes the International Scout such an iconic vehicle, and why do you think it has such a devoted fanbase? How does it compare to other classic 4x4s like the Ford Bronco,Jeep CJ,40 Series LandCruiser

The Scout has that classic underdog feel compared to other brands—it’s like the quiet achiever in a room full of show-offs. In the US, Broncos and Jeeps hog all the attention, and over here in Australia, the Landys and Troopys are like celebrities. Meanwhile, the Scout is just happily doing its own thing, totally fine with flying under the radar. That’s why it’s always fun to show up somewhere and have people who’ve been wheeling for decades come over and say, “Wait… what the heck is that?”

For me, the Scout’s cabin feels way more spacious and luxurious than, say, an FJ40, Series Land Rover, or Perentie. It’s got more of an F100 feel—more passenger car than agricultural utility vehicle. The driving personality feels the same too. Sure, sometimes the boxy design makes you question if it’s meant to go forwards or backwards, but at the end of the day, I think it comes out on top.

Have you customized the Scout to fit your personal style or needs? What are the most unique features of your Scout, and how do they stand out from other vehicles?

The Scout’s mostly stock, so I wouldn’t say it’s wildly ‘unique’ compared to others—unless you count the canopy, the front bar that looks like it could plow through a building without a scratch, and the aircraft starter poking out of the grille like it’s ready to jumpstart a 747. 

The real charm is in its history. This Scout lived its early life in Dandenong, Victoria, right next to the original International Harvester factory in Australia. I found old travel maps, receipts, hunting logbooks, and even two tickets to the Dandenong drive-in cinema in the glovebox. The kind of history you can’t fake, and that makes it feel more like driving a time capsule than a car.

What’s it like to maintain and live with a classic like the International Scout?

It’s both a blessing and a curse, like adopting a slightly feral dog that’s somehow loveable. Some days, it leaves you feeling utterly defeated, parking it in the garage with shoulders sore from wrestling the steering wheel, legs burning from the heavy clutch, and ears ringing from the gears that sound like they’re grinding up walnuts. You end up taking the train to work even on rainy days just to get a break from it.

But then there are the good days. The sun’s out, the roof’s off, and you’re cruising through town with friends and a picnic packed in the back. You’ll get waves, smiles, and thumbs-ups from people who know exactly what you’re driving. You’ll feel a surge of pride, remembering that every gasket, every seal, and every hour spent cursing at seized bolts was totally worth it. And just when you’re feeling on top of the world, the Scout will sputter, cough, and remind you that humility is also a key part of the ownership experience.

Do you belong to any clubs or communities for Scout owners, and how has that enriched your experience?

There’s a great little Facebook community for Scout owners. It’s like a support group, but instead of talking about feelings, we share photos of our build progress and ask if anyone has a spare fuel gauge. There are members collecting chassis numbers to fill out a lost-and-found registry of all Scouts produced, sharing advice on parts and maintenance, and organising occasional meetups in towns outside of the main cities.

Scout owners are proud of their cars and community—just as proud as International Harvester was to put an IH stamp on every bolt head of every vehicle they produced. The group helped me find my Scout, so I try to give back where I can. I figure if you can’t fix your Scout, at least you can fix someone else’s!

What does the future look like for your Scout? Any upcoming projects or modifications planned?

At the moment, I’m focused on finishing another project before I do anything too drastic to the Scout. My dream goal? To turn it into the off-road machine it should’ve been from the factory. Maybe a whole new driveline, rooftop tent, something that can actually make it across Australia without feeling like an episode of RoadKill. I’ve always been jealous of the builds from shops like New Legend and Anything Scout in the US. If I could do something even close to what they do, I’d be a happy chap.

Why do you think the International Scout still holds such appeal today, decades after its production ended?

Honestly, I think the Scout got lucky by going out of production when it did. While other manufacturers have had to constantly evolve with the changing market, sometimes losing their original identity along the way, the Scout remains frozen in time, preserving its legacy.

Now, with Volkswagen acquiring the rights to the Scout name and planning to launch an EV pickup truck under the same badge, we’ll see what the future holds. It sounds like they’re putting in a lot of research and effort to capture the true essence of what the Scout represents. They’ve been reaching out to community members and enthusiasts to document and honour that history, so there’s a sense of cautious optimism and excitement to see how this new chapter unfolds! Who knows? Maybe the Scout will be back on the road soon—this time without the need to carry a toolbox just to make it home!

Photos by Joel Seeto

Words by Jacob Tsagaris