The 4Runner's factory gauges are gone. In their place: three digital screens that read the truck's own signals — speed, engine, fuel, temperature, a compass — change their whole look with a swipe, and can be watched live from your phone over Wi-Fi. A modern take on an old classic, without losing what makes it one.
Three screens. A wide 8.8-inch display sits behind the wheel where the old cluster was, with two round screens beside it for extra readouts. Together they show speed, engine rpm, fuel, coolant temperature, battery, a compass heading, outside temperature, the odometer, how level the truck is, and turn-signal and door warnings.
It reads the real truck. A circuit board we drew ourselves sits between the forty-year-old wiring and the screens, and turns the old signals into something the screens understand — the fuel sender, the temperature probe, the turn signals, the works.
Six looks, one swipe. Swipe the main screen to change the whole style — classic needles, an 80s LCD, a bright cyan readout, bar graphs, a topo map, an off-road trail plot — and all three screens change together.
You can try it right here. The whole dash runs further down this page, in your browser, all three screens at once.
The engine already knew everything. The dash just couldn't show it.
The 4Runner doesn't run on Toyota's original engine computer anymore. It runs an aftermarket one called a MegaSquirt, and that little box pays attention to everything — how fast the engine's turning, how much air and fuel it's getting, how hard it's working, how hot it is.
Problem was, all that information had nowhere to go. You could plug a laptop into it and read the numbers, which is great in the driveway and completely useless halfway up a trail.
The factory cluster gave you a speedometer, a fuel gauge, and a temperature needle with two settings: fine, and too late. That's about it.
When you've tuned the engine yourself, that's not enough to go on. You want to catch a problem while it's still small and cheap, not after it's already cost you something.
Two wires run from the engine computer to the new cluster, and everything it knows shows up on the screens. That sits right alongside the stuff the truck still tells us the old-fashioned way — how much gas is in the tank, whether a turn signal's on, if the back door's open, how cold it is outside, and where we are from a GPS antenna.
Two of those numbers are worth their weight in gold on an old engine. Air-fuel tells you if the tune is right where you're actually driving, not just at idle. Vacuum tells you how the engine's breathing, and it's usually the first thing to go weird when something's wrong.
It fits the factory opening, it's the right shape, and out of the box it looks like a normal set of round gauges. Nobody riding shotgun would think twice about it.
The modern stuff is hiding behind that. Swipe when you want it, ignore it when you don't.
None of this is exotic. It's three small computers, three screens, one board we drew ourselves, and a handful of sensors — all of it stuff you can buy.
An 8.8-inch wide screen, 1920 by 480 — long and short, which is exactly the shape of the hole the factory cluster came out of. It's a touchscreen, and that's how you swipe between looks.
Running it is an ESP32-P4, a little dual-core chip on a development board about the size of a credit card. It's the one part in here doing real work: drawing a 1920-pixel-wide dash ten times a second while also listening to the engine, the GPS and the sensors.
Two 1.46-inch round touchscreens, 412 by 412 pixels, each with its own ESP32-S3 built onto the back. They're small, they're round, and behind a bezel they look like ordinary gauges.
One is set up as an inclinometer — how level the truck is, front-to-back and side-to-side. It has its own tilt sensor built in, so it keeps working even if everything else goes quiet. The other is the engine pod — vacuum and air-fuel, the two numbers that tell you how the engine is really doing.
Both run the exact same software. Which job a pod does is decided when it's plugged in, not when it's programmed, so there's only ever one version to keep track of.
This is the part you can't buy. It's a 100 × 95 mm circuit board we drew ourselves, and it's the reason any of the rest works: 1986 wiring goes in one side, something the screens understand comes out the other.
A truck's electrical system is a rough place. The voltage swings, the alternator throws spikes, and every signal is designed around parts that stopped being made decades ago. Screens are the opposite — they want clean, steady, low voltage and they die instantly if they don't get it. Nothing off a shelf sits between those two worlds, so we made the piece that does.
What it actually does, in the order the electricity meets it:
| The job | Why it's needed |
|---|---|
| Makes clean power | Turns the truck's messy 12 volts into the steady 5 and 3.3 volts the screens and sensors need. The big blue can smooths out what the alternator does. |
| Survives mistakes | Hook the battery up backwards and nothing happens at all — no smoke, no dead screens. There's also a clamp for the voltage spike you get when a big load drops off the alternator. |
| Isolates the turn signals | The two black chips read the flasher wires through light instead of wire, so a spike out on a forty-year-old harness has no path into anything expensive. |
| Reads the original fuel sender | The Toyota sender is a variable resistor with its own odd range. The board turns that into a number the screen can use, without replacing the part in the tank. |
| Protects every input | Every wire coming in from the truck gets a resistor and a clamp, so a chafed wire touching 12 volts costs a few milliamps instead of the main computer. |
| Carries the conversation | Three transceivers put the main screen, both pods and the engine computer on one shared pair of wires. |
| Leaves room | Connections for two more pods further away, three spare inputs, a parking-brake input and a speaker — all cheaper to include now than to redo the board later. |
A GPS and compass module up on the dash gives heading, position, altitude and the clock. A temperature probe behind the grille reads outside air. The truck's original fuel sender in the tank still does its job — we just read it differently. And the engine computer sends everything else down a single pair of wires.
| Piece | What it is | What it does |
|---|---|---|
| Main screen | 8.8″ touchscreen, 1920 × 480 | The dash itself, in the factory opening |
| Main computer | ESP32-P4 module board | Draws the dash, reads the sensors, runs the Wi-Fi |
| Pods × 2 | 1.46″ round touchscreen, 412 × 412, ESP32-S3 | Tilt on one, engine vacuum and air-fuel on the other |
| Interface board | Our own, 100 × 95 mm, two layers | Power, protection, and every wire in and out |
| GPS & compass | BE-880 module | Speed, heading, altitude, position, time |
| Outside temp | DS18B20 probe | Air temperature behind the grille |
| Fuel | The truck's original tank sender | How much gas is left, read straight off the 1986 part |
| Engine | MegaSquirt, over two wires | Rpm, coolant, air-fuel, vacuum, battery |
Every look is the same data drawn a different way. Pick the one that suits the day — a clean gauge face for the highway, a map style for the trail. Swipe the main screen and both round pods change with it.
They're genuinely different layouts, not one design in six colours. The 80s LCD doesn't get a fancy horizon on the tilt pod, because an 80s LCD dash couldn't have drawn one — it gets bar graphs instead. Same with the bar-graph look. If you just recolour one layout six times, it shows immediately.
Here's the complete dash running in your browser — the wide screen and both round pods, drawing the same faces the truck draws. Change the look and watch all three switch together, the way they do when you swipe the real one.
There are also a few places you can put the truck: sitting at idle, out on the highway, climbing a grade, leaned over on a side hill, or with a vacuum leak. That last one is the point of the whole build — the engine pod tells you something's wrong instead of leaving you to spot it.
The cluster makes its own Wi-Fi hotspot — no internet, no app to install. Connect your phone to it in the driveway, open a page, and you get:
Live data. Speed, engine, fuel, temperature and alerts update in real time, right on the phone.
Settings without a laptop. Redline, fuel calibration, units, brightness, which look it starts up in — change them from the couch and they save to the cluster.
Engine diagnostics. Air-fuel and vacuum on a live readout, which is where the standalone engine computer really earns its keep.
Both round screens too. The page shows what each of the little gauges is displaying, so you can see all three from your phone without leaning into the truck.
Trail tools. How level you are front-to-back and side-to-side, what kind of mileage you're getting and how far that leaves you, and a 0–60 timer, because why not.
Updates over the air. New features load on wirelessly, no cable, no pulling the dash apart.
Once the dash is back together, getting to any of it means taking the whole thing apart again. So we made sure we'd never have to.
Sit in the driveway, connect your phone to the truck, drop in a new file, and a couple of minutes later everything's running the new version. The big screen updates straight over Wi-Fi. The two round ones don't have Wi-Fi at all, so the main screen passes the update along to them through the wiring that already connects them.
That last part took some doing, but it means a screen buried behind the dash is just as easy to update as the one you can see.
Every update gets checked before it's installed. If the file shows up damaged, or the Wi-Fi drops halfway through, the cluster shrugs and keeps running what it already had. We tested that the hard way more than once.
Early on, the Wi-Fi would occasionally lock up and the only cure was pulling power. Now the cluster keeps an eye on its own radio, and if it stops answering it restarts it — back on the air in about a minute, without anybody touching anything.
Switch it on and all three screens come up with the Beach Bum Off-Road name in the same colors as this site, right down to the striped band. It's a small thing, but it's the first thing you see every single time you get in.
While that's up, the cluster is quietly checking itself — GPS, the engine computer, the compass, the fuel sender, the temperature probe — and if something didn't wake up, you find out right there instead of wondering later why a gauge is blank.
Then every gauge sweeps all the way up and back down, the way a good dashboard always has, and settles into the real numbers. A tap on the screen skips it.
The two round screens do the same, and each one says what it's set up to show. That's saved us already — it's the quickest way to spot that both got set to the same job.
The first board we made worked, and it taught us everything we'd have done differently. Building a thing is still the fastest way to find that out. So there's a second version — the one everything on this page is built around, and the one that goes in the truck for good.
It isn't a redraw. Every piece of the first board that was right got carried straight over; only what had to change got changed. Here's what it does that the first one didn't:
The first version needed a hand-built adapter cable, a couple of resistors soldered on by hand, and two separate little boards for the pods. All of that is now part of the main board. One board, one set of connectors, nothing to remember.
The round screens come with a twenty-pin ribbon connector on them. The new board has the same connector, wired pin for pin, so an off-the-shelf ribbon cable plugs straight in at both ends. No custom cables, nothing to make up, and nothing to get backwards.
The 4Runner's original parking brake gets its own warning on the screens, styled to match whichever look you're running. The factory lamp doesn't come back — the new cluster handles it.
The board drives the two round screens it has, and leaves connections for two more further away, so extra readouts can be added later without designing another board. Three general-purpose inputs are built in for whatever comes next — another sensor, another switch, something not thought of yet. Cheaper to include them now than to redo the board later.
There's a connection for a small speaker. The idea isn't beeping at you all day — it's the couple of things you'd want to hear about with your eyes on the road. Running hot. The engine going lean when it's working hard. A door open once you're rolling.
Deliberately not on the list: a turn-signal tick. The truck's flasher relay is the thing that clicks, it's still under the dash, and it still does. No point in two.
A handful of corrections that only turned up once the first board was built and wired: a connector with its rows the wrong way round, missing resistors that stopped the compass being seen, the fuel gauge reading off a pin that couldn't actually measure, and — the last one to show up — two small resistors for the turn signals.
That one is worth a word. The truck runs LED bulbs, and an old filament bulb quietly did a job nobody thinks about: it gave the turn-signal wire somewhere to drain to when the flasher clicked off. LEDs don't. So the dash light came on with the stalk and then just sat there, solid, while every wire in the truck measured perfectly fine. Two resistors on the board fix it for good, and they do no harm at all if you ever put ordinary bulbs back in. That's the kind of thing you only find with the truck in the driveway and the key on.
That's the whole thing: 100 × 95 mm, two layers, seventy-one parts. It's been checked against the truck's wiring, against the firmware's pin map, and against the pod connectors, and the manufacturing files have been accepted by the board house.