Why Jeep Needs a New CJ

In 2007, Jeep introduced the JK Wrangler, the successor to the 10-year-old TJ, which itself was really just a warmed over version of the 20-year-old YJ. So, considering the TJ’s old bones, improving upon it wasn’t too tall of an order, but the JK is nevertheless just as capable as its predecessor, while also far and away more comfortable.

And indeed, why shouldn’t the new JK be more comfortable? It expands the potential market for the Wrangler, and greater sales equals greater income, of which DaimlerChrysler Cerberus Capital Management Chrysler Group could always use more. However, in gentrifying the Wrangler, Jeep risks diluting the inherent personality of the nameplate, a dangerous proposition for a brand already diluted itself by several models possessing none of the traditional Jeep virtues.

You see, as much as the name Wrangler has always meant off road prowess, it has also meant a certain degree of inconvenience wherein the experience of ownership is concerned. As is evident from the above video, the Wrangler (and before it, the CJ) has been unequaled in noise, vibration, and harshness since time immemorial; ergo, Wrangler drivers have been, of necessity and by tradition, slightly eccentric. That, in turn, has built a loyal community of owners, whose enthusiasm has imbued in the Wrangler nameplate an unimpeachable equity. The problem is that in making the JK easier to live with, that very equity is being squandered. How am I so sure? In my opinion, the new JK is so refined, to own one no longer requires acceptance of the maxim, “It’s a Jeep thing. You wouldn’t understand.” The more damning evidence, however, is this: 99% of all JK drivers I encounter fail to perform the Jeep wave.

Of course, there’s no sense in doing away with the JK. From a financial perspective, it’s too much of a sales success to so much as even contemplate doing so, while from a utilitarian perspective, if I were married with two kids, I have to admit that I’d drive a four door JK, myself. What needs to be done away with are the execrable car-based Compass and Patriot, replaced post haste by something that embraces the roughshod unwieldiness of the old Wrangler.

However, by embracing the form-following-function ethos of the previous Wrangler, I don’t mean just running off another bunch of old TJs—as much as I’d like that. Rather, Chrysler could look at this as an opportunity to break new ground. While the ability to tackle the Rubicon Trail would be a must in a new CJ (or Willys or whatever it might be called), there’s no reason why it can’t be a comparatively lightweight unibody vehicle, the XJ Cherokee having long ago proved unibody construction entirely capable off road. Furthermore, this new vehicle would present an opportunity to incorporate high tech powertrains, which I was lead to believe were being worked on.

Now, I admit that I take issue with the JK Wrangler’s size. We won World War II with a vehicle 1/3 as large, so why does going to the mall require something comparatively massive? Of course, that’s just me being a traditionalist. The larger threat lies in the rationale used to justify the more accommodating JK: putting Jeeps in the driveways of those who would otherwise have nothing to do with them. This is the same rationale that lead to the Compass and Patriot—miserable economy cars masquerading as Jeeps, concocted by and for people who think the essence of the brand is nothing more than a seven-slot grille.

Naturally, all of this falls of deaf ears—I’m 100% certain that nobody within 20 miles of Chrysler HQ in Auburn Hills, Michigan will read this post—but if nothing else, I’ve at least justified why I plan on driving my old 4-cylinder, no A/C, rattle-y, loud, and awkward TJ for a long time to come. Yea, though it is a warning bound to go unheeded, mark my words: while expanding the reach of a specialized brand like Jeep with a softened Wrangler and what are essentially milquetoast cars may build sales, it does so on a crumbling foundation.