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Just to warn you, this post will be a good bit more maudlin and personal than usual. If you’re not in the mood for that, I’d advise you to check back tomorrow for the normal dose of automotive irrelevancy usual in this space. If you want to stick with this, just bear with me–I’ll get to the Wagoneer eventually.

My maternal grandfather died in 2006. It was one of those situations where everybody agreed that it was for the best, because his quality of life had deteriorated somewhat in the final year or so, but yet we all knew it wasn’t for the best for us, because we had lost a great man who we all loved.

My grandfather was one of those rare people who bring absolute decency to every moment of their lives. He was polite without being weak; thoughtful without putting on airs; earnest without being boring; and funny without being loud or hurtful. He could dissolve a room in laughter with his bone-dry quips (often exchanged in rapid fire with my VW Rabbit-ice racing uncle), but he was never thoughtless and abhorred flashy loudmouths. He read Louis L’Amour books and was both as taciturn and as mentally strong as any L’Amour hero. Everything about my grandfather was substance. For a young boy growing up, trying to learn how to be a good man, he was a fantastic role model.

My grandfather found his perfect automotive analogue in the straightforward, honest, and capable Jeep Wagoneer. He was a Wagoneer guy through and through. He owned at least five, possibly six, different Wagoneers over the course of several decades. Inspired by his example, my parents owned one, my uncle owned one, and my paternal grandmother owned two.

The Wagoneer was produced with remarkably few revisions from 1963 to 1991, through four separate decades and three different corporate parents (Willys/Kaiser, AMC, and Chrysler). Most agree that it was the original SUV.

Like today’s SUVs, the Wagoneer had a five-door configuration and could carry a family in relative comfort, as well as cargo in abundance. However, in stark contrast to today’s posh car-based SUVs, the Wagoneer was a demon off-road, tough as nails, and so solid that it was seemingly hewn from granite. It was so tough that my parents skipped out of their high school homecoming dance to go snowdrift-busting during a blizzard in one of my grandfather’s early Wagoneers. Evidently this is what passed for fun in 1968 South Dakota.

I like my trucks unashamed of their truckishness; the Wagoneer is tough, stylish in a bluff, straightforward way, and eminently useful, with no pretensions of being a car. It was perfect for my grandfather.

Obviously, Wagoneers are near and dear to me; I would love to own one. On my grandfather’s passing, I wanted to purchase his Wagoneer, but I ran into some difficulties. Namely, I ran into a sinister cabal made up of my grandmother, my mother, and my wife, who all agreed that the Wagoneer was too unreliable and too expensive for my young family.

Too unreliable? Too inexpensive to maintain? They made the Wagoneer sound like an incredibly dangerous vehicle, carved haphazardly from plutonium by mental patients, and with high explosives strapped under each seat.

Compared to a Toyota Camry, perhaps that’s true, but I’m on record as lusting after Citroens, Fiats, MGs, Saabs, Renaults, and Alfa Romeos. In that context, the Wagoneer runs like an atomic clock. However, the cabal swatted that argument down with many words of one syllable apiece, delivered with incredible force and authority. So, unfortunately, my pursuit of a Wagoneer with which I can carry on the family tradition will need to wait for another time.

Wagoneers do have a cult following and are still fairly common in places where rugged strength and traction are necessary–primarily in cold-weather areas, and close to the wilderness. Many have been worked hard and been harshly treated, but there are companies that refit, refinish, and restore Wagoneers to sell as basically brand new vehicles.

A few years ago when I was noodling around looking for a nice used Wagoneer to buy, I stumbled across Wagonmasters, which completely refits and sells Jeep wagons. At first the prices took my breath away–$30,000 for a 20-year-old used Jeep?–but the Wagoneers they sell really do look and run like they are brand new. GrandWagoneer.com seems to offer a similar service, with a similarly obsessive attention to detail. Evidently I’m not the only loon out here with a passion for Wagoneers.

Most people seem to prefer the last Grand Wagoneers made, with wood side trim and power windows and locks. I think the most attractive Wagoneers are those from the 1970s and 1980s, just because the lines are so clean and uncluttered. Really, though, the Wagoneer changed so little in its 28-year run that if you like one of them, you’ll probably like all of them.

The top pictures here are from a particularly pretty red ‘86 Wagonmaster woodie that is the spitting image of my grandfather’s last Wagoneer. The remaining woodie photos are example photos from GrandWagoneer.com, and the bottom wagon is actually a ‘77 Wagonmaster Cherokee that is as representative of anything I could find of an older Wagoneer.

–Chris H.