When I learned to drive, the personal computer had yet to be invented, the Beatles were still together, and the Jeep was a simple steel box.
Four-and-a-half decades later, the Jeep is still a simple steel box.
Not long ago, I spent a couple of weeks in Georgia driving a Jeep Rubicon. It was an education in both off-road technology and evading the cruel and relentless cycle of automotive fashion: while other vehicles fall out of style, the humble Jeep remains an icon.
As I navigated a steep, rocky slope, I was reminded of what the Jeep is really about – going where other vehicles can't. Although the vast majority of buyers use their Jeeps for little more than mall runs, this is a vehicle with serious off-road credentials. Google "Jeep rock-crawling" to see what I mean.
Yes, this is a legendary machine. But considering the history of the car market, it's amazing that the Jeep has survived.
The Jeep traces its roots back to the Second World War, when the U.S. Army asked manufacturers to submit proposals for a vehicle to carry soldiers and equipment. The simple, slab-sided Jeep proved perfect for the job. By the time the war ended, more than 600,000 had been built.
As the United States rode through the great postwar consumer boom, the car world was ruled by the relentless forces of style, profit and customer expectation. The annual model change became a car-industry imperative, pumping up sales by drawing consumers with the latest iteration of their favourite car.
Tail fins came and went. Station wagons rose and fell. Hood scoops went in and out of fashion. Through it all, the Jeep stayed essentially the same – a utilitarian metal cube. Like the Harley-Davidson motorcycle, the Jeep has remained relevant by defying the whims of fashion, sticking instead to a proven, old-fashioned formula.
Although the Jeep's ongoing success makes continuity look like a surefire strategy, it's anything but. Rejecting change can be the kiss of corporate death. Henry Ford almost ruined his company by refusing to replace the Model T, even as competitors came out with designs that lured away his customers. And Harley-Davidson flirted with bankruptcy in the 1970s when the U.S. market was flooded with foreign motorcycles featuring newer technology.
But for the Jeep, sticking with the original formula has meant survival. Like Porsche's 911 sports car, the Jeep has a shape that has been preserved through multiple generations. The 911 is a bullet; the Jeep is a brick. Both are sacrosanct.
Modern Jeeps have benefited from more than 70 years of development and refinement, yet they still follow the same mechanical blueprint as the original – a squared-off steel body with a flat windshield, two solid axles and four-wheel-drive.
Part of the Jeep's appeal is the way it can be used to express its owner's tastes. One of my dad's friends pulled the four-cylinder engine out of his and replaced it with V-8 from a Corvette. Another installed a diesel. The Jeep is a blank canvas. My friend Matt's Rubicon has been customized with long-travel Fox suspension, custom bumpers and an electric winch that you can use to pull yourself out if you get stuck out in the woods. Matt's coffee table is stacked with Jeep accessory catalogues that offer everything from chromed wheel nuts to new bodies. Thousands of manufacturers make parts for Jeeps and – with the possible exception of the Harley-Davidson motorcycle – the Jeep probably has more aftermarket parts available than any vehicle.
The Jeep is not perfect – especially for the on-road mission that most owners use it for. The short wheelbase and tall ride height that let it ford streams and roll over logs make it twitchy and prone to rollover. The blunt profile and heavy-duty running gear make it a fuel hog compared with a compact car.
The New York Museum of Modern Art has a military Jeep on display, and describes it as "one of the very few genuine expressions of machine art." Legendary war correspondent Ernie Pyle immortalized the Jeep in one his dispatches from the front: "It did everything. It went everywhere. Was as faithful as a dog, as strong as a mule, and as agile as a goat. It constantly carried twice what it was designed for and still kept going."
If an accountant were to create a cold-hearted list of the Jeep's pluses and minuses, few rational buyers would choose it. Only those who actually drive off-road can maximize its capabilities, and in a city, it's a fish out of water. Oh well. Here's to the humble Jeep – long may it roll.
Like us on Facebook
Add us to your circles.
Sign up for our weekly newsletter.