In 1994 while living in 29 Palms, I picked up a Jeep CJ-7. My first big purchase. I had my sights set on this vehicle for several reasons with the main one being that I wanted a bad ass 4x4 to drive around in to go places that regular cars can't. And what 20-something single male wouldn't? They embody testosterone and all things rugged about what a car can be. No self-respecting guy driving a VW Bug can lay claim to be a guy's guy. I mean, seriously.
Another more subtle reason for my decision was that for a time in '94 my other car was a legitimate hangar queen- in and out of the mechanic for what I suspected (and proved later) to be simple fix items that were killing a minuscule military salary that was barely enough to pay for groceries and gas. So, a Jeep CJ-7 in all it's basic mechanical glory was a perfect starter car to learn the fundamentals of vehicle maintenance. Over the next few years in the dry air of 29 Palms, I worked on the Jeep, restored it and added on ruggedized features: 33" tires, a 3 1/2" lift, roof & outback racks, new stereo system, paint job, etc. The outdoor playground environment meant tons of off-roading experiences, and thanks to being parked in the middle of nowhere with no hopes of moving until my Marine Corps contract was up.. lots of free time. Another case of making lemonade when life throws you lemons.
Jeep restoration was a perfect hobby for all the right reasons. Yes, I found myself on the highway with cars whizzing by as I crawled under the thing to reattach a driveshaft or replace a water pump. Most notably one winter afternoon racing to Las Vegas for a flight to Montana to visit my Godfather, anything that could go wrong- did. While already handicapped with a broken hand thanks to a snowboarding wreck, I replaced a tire and locked myself out at the airport before I could get to my skis. Then after multiple cancelations thanks to a Denver blizzard, I managed to seize both door mechanisms forcing a crawl into and out of the passenger side window. That day for a variety of reasons, I was going out of my mind. But it forced me to think about automoblie maintenance in a different light, including the need for creative solutions- especially when alone and stranded on the side of the road. How do I fix this? How can I get myself and my Jeep home without calling a mechanic and dumping even more money?
A few years later when I drove the Jeep cross-country with a buddy, I had little foresight about what would amount to an epic adventure. I have driven across the States about 10 times now and each one of those drives was unique. The difference is that in a Jeep, it is possible to truly see the country in a different way. At 80mph, blurred details are missed going point to point with only radio station changes and intermittent city transits giving a sense of progress. In a Jeep, you truly see things. Street signs. People working fields. True America slowly rolling down the road, stopping every ~150 miles for a new tank of gas. In a Jeep, you aren't forced into encapsulated air-conditioned comfort that isolates as much as it does ramp up the speed. It is a windows down, in-your-face experience, feeling sticky humidity while overtaking a thunder storm and the sharp grit of furnace hot blowing desert sand. Despite a few nail biting moments thanks to madman 18-wheelers, we had a much more common interface with people driving alongside to wave and smile, talking with roadside
restaranteurs and even having complete strangers offer to put us up for a night along the way. It truly was an experience similar to bygone days of Route 66 lore.
But once the Jeep arrived on east coast, it's driving time dwindled. East coast weather isn't the same as 29 Palms, where I could work on the Jeep so long as I had shade from the 120-degree sun. Virginia maintenance usually equalled 35 degree days with me under the Jeep in a parking lot between rain storms. Not so fun. And then there are the Northern Virginia drivers. Nothing better than rolling along at a healthy clip down a narrow, winding Virginia road and then have one of these little zippy cars so popular out here jam past you, cut in front and then throw on the brakes. Talk about nail biting. Some of those jokers are lucky that my winch didn't end up in their back seat.
Over the years, maintenance issues built up while inspections lapsed. The Jeep sat in my parents driveway through one deployment to Iraq, and then a second one. Grime, rust, and gunk accumulated as batteries died, oil settled and the radiator calcified. Paper wasps decided that the front grill and exhaust pipe were fantastic places to call home. Spiders built webs in any possible cranny, laying egg cases inside the brake drums. All that time and effort spent to build a perfect off-road vehicle. My pride and accomplishment. All disappearing thanks to time and the elements.
From 1999, this vehicle had sat in their driveway. How many parents would do that for their kid? Very few. But they did, and last year my parents were resurfacing the driveway where they had unselfishly stored the Jeep for so many years. Maybe revealing a little of his frustration, Dad thought aloud about pushing it down the hill and into the woods. After reminding him of how fun it would be to pull it back up again, he decided a better place for it would be the front yard. The front yard. For anyone trying to picture this, imagine all those West Virginia images of taller grass, a vehicle hulk,
maybe a sink, a few plastic kids toys and a painted toilet with flowers growing out of it. Then, place that house in Northern Virginia surrounded by quizzical neighbors who definitely aren't expecting to see a vehicle parked in a neighbors front yard.
Around Thanksgiving, Barbara noticed that since the Jeep was now parked so close to Dad's bird feeders, the local squirrel population had found a new use for the Jeep- a house. And why not. It was about five feet from all the prime thistle feeders- undoubtedly squirrel filet mignon. So the squirrels could now empty Dad's feeders and then dine to their hearts content in the relative safety of the Jeep's hood. Some people have Garden Gnomes. Some people have Pink Flamingos. Others have fountains or a nice array of well manicured bushes. Our house had a CJ-7 Squirrel House. In and out they ran, up into the wheel wells, around the roof rack and under the hood. It was time. I couldn't take any more. Despite the myriad of maintenance issues, it couldn't get to this point. Squirrels were the last straw.
So, over the last few days I have been working like a fiend on the Jeep. I have: replaced the fuel pump, replaced a brake cylinder in the rear drum and rebuilt the components, replaced headlights and windshield wipers, upgraded some underbody weatherproofing, replaced the oil, flushed the radiator, rewired the radio, resealed some leaks and scrubbed off seven years of mung from the hood, windsheld and quarterpanels. At times in the dark and in 35 degree temps, I pressed on. Fun.
Ok, maybe not so fun. But, it's my Jeep and in my own way I have a special piece of love in that vehicle. I have made it what it is today, and it's finally back on it's feet, ready to be inspected and back on the roads. It's like a whole new vehicle- the paints ready for a new coat on the hood, but on the whole it is back to being a beautiful classic. It literally is an eye-turner. On a quick test drives today, a bunch of neighborhood kids stopped, waved, and started running along as I drove past. How many VW Bugs do you think get that sort of attention? It really, truly is a classic model vehicle. And it's finally back.
Damn squirrels. Take that. Go find a new home.
Back to Main:
http://territoryahead.blogspot.com/
To specifically identify a type of blossom to give me flower foundation (is that an actual term?), I used the image at right. I didn't know it at the time I started, but there are apparently several different varieties of cherry blossom, stemming from several different variety of cherry tree. Go figure. In retrospect the fact that there are multiple cherry trees in the whole cherry tree family makes complete sense. But I think I spent even less time thinking about that then I did in naming my painting. So now I know. Huh. The things you learn.
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