Are you ready for that great atomic power?
Will you rise and meet your savior in the air?
Will you shout or will you cry when the fire rains from on high?
Are you ready for that great atomic power?
—The Louvin Brothers
During the peril and uncertainty of the Cold War, the Atomic Energy Commission (AEC), overseer
of the American nuclear program kick-started by the Manhattan Project in World War II,
needed a domestic source of uranium.
The U-238 refined into weapons fuel for the Little Boy and Fat Man bombs dropped on Hiroshima
and Nagasaki had come from Canadian and African sources, and the AEC, understandably, wanted
full control over its supply.
The agency hit on the strategy of guaranteeing domestic miners a very good price for the
stuff.
Enter Charlie Steen and his battered Jeep.
A geologist by trade, Steen figured the northwest portion of the Colorado Plateau stood the
best chance of delivering a strike hearty enough to serve the government's needs.
He spent a couple of years trundling around eastern Utah on a mission, at points living
with his family in a tarpaper shack.
In 1952, Big Indian Wash, not far from Moab, proved his educated hunch correct, delivering
a vein of uranium of exceptional purity.
The strike precipitated a uranium rush in the area, and sleepy Moab boomed while the
area around the town became littered with trails cut to get the suddenly precious heavy
metal out of the red cliffs.
By 1960, it was all done.
The feds had enough uranium to serve their needs, and since the AEC was the American
uranium market, prospectors packed up their Geiger counters and left.
Miners went off to mine other things.
Moab languished.
In 1967, off-roading had hit something of a critical mass.
The Mexican 1000 Rally—the Baja 1000's predecessor—saw its first running, as did
the Mint 400 outside Las Vegas.
Meanwhile, out in Utah, the Moab Chamber of Commerce hit upon an idea.
Why not invite Jeep fans out to drive the Behind the Rocks Trail, a lovely, quite technical
ramble through the state's unparalleled red-rock country?
Fifty-one years later, the Easter Jeep Safari has become the equivalent of Sturgis for Jeeps.
And, like Harley-Davidson at the famed South Dakota biker rally, Jeep has little choice
but to make a real showing in Moab.
Its Easter Jeep Safari concepts have become a springtime tradition in the automotive world,
eagerly awaited even by those with a mere passing fancy for America's dedicated off-road
brand.
Everybody wants to know about the Jeep Sandstorm, because the Sandstorm is a hairball Jeeper's
fantasy come to life.
The pickup-looking concept boasts a stonking 392 Hemi crate engine, a manual transmission,
and a desert-race-oriented suspension developed and fabricated by Southern California's
Off Road Evolution.
It has a hair-trigger clutch, makes desert-bro whuggada-WAAAAHHH!!!!
V-8 sounds, hangs the rear out with moderate applications of throttle, and generally seems
like it'd be a lot more fun to drive if I wasn't more afraid of breaking Jeep's
most slavered-over show truck during the Safari.
Give me some jerrycans full of fuel and an afternoon at Anza-Borrego, however, and I
like to think I'd suck them dry wringing out the boisterous monster.
The J-Wagon is a luxed-up, besnorkeled Wrangler Sahara hardtop trying to front like it's
a Geländewagen.
The good news: The new JL Wrangler is a better-driving machine in pretty much every respect than
the outgoing Mercedes-Benz G-class.
The bad news: The charm of a Wrangler is in its fundamental Jeep-ness, and the coolest
G-wagens are the utilitarian models built for serious business.
Plus, to those scarred by the whole DaimlerChrysler debacle, it could bring up traumatic memories.
The Nacho Jeep, a showcase for Mopar's Jeep Performance Parts accessories, was primarily
a bolt-on affair, but it wound up being one of my favorite concepts to drive.
It highlights the fundamental excellence of the new JL while adding a bit more capability
via a suspension developed in conjunction with Fox, and it features 40,000 lumens'
worth of accessory lighting.
It was tough to look at in broad daylight with all its LEDs in full radiance.
If I have one regret from the Safari, it's that I didn't get a chance to take the Nacho
out at night.
Pointed northeast, I have little doubt the Nacho could've backlit the Wasatch Front
for the good people of Salt Lake City.
A product of Jeep's Kaiser era, the '65 Wagoneer that the company created as a tribute
to the Great American Road Trip, was found on Craigslist, gutted, and then rebuilt as
a rather perfect midcentury fantasy, complete with stuffed dog.
Jeep boxed the chassis and treated the old truck to a new 5.7-liter crate Hemi, a set
of Dana 44 axles, and some modern suspension hardware.
Oddly, trundling along in what Jeep calls the Roadtrip at low speed, the whole experience
felt decidedly aged, with only the controlled damping betraying any hint of modernity.
At low speeds, the V-8 even managed to sound carbureted.
It was only with the throttle at heavy whack that the induction was robbed of the great
sucking sound of a pair of secondaries opening up.
The body still flexed and juddered as I motorboated down the trail, and I sort of shuddered to
think what it would've been like if the frame hadn't been boxed.
Perhaps my favorite Jeep of the lot aesthetically was the Jeepster, a red-and-white choptop
Wrangler with a decidedly American Motors Corporation vibe.
Launched for 1967 during the Kaiser era, the Jeepster Commando didn't last long under
AMC's supervision, evolving into the Commando, with a decidedly un-Jeepy grille, then vanishing
after 1973.
But the modern, concept Jeepster looks sweet, with its two-tone paint handily evoking the
Commando's wagon variant, while the two-door JL platform gives it a wider, more pugnacious
stance.
And dig those Helvetica "Jeepster" badges on the fenders, which say 1970s in a way that's
subtle yet unmistakable.
Driving the thing, however, was a bit odd.
Other Jeeps on the track had tires running in the low teens, pressure-wise, but for some
reason, the Jeepster didn't seem to want to turn.
More than once, turn-in points I'd used in the other vehicles on the loop had me on
a much shallower arc than I'd intended.
I'm not sure what was up, but, hey, concept truck!
It's important to note that Jeep's teams build these vehicles in a matter of months.
In the case of the JL-based vehicles, the rush has been perhaps a bit crazier than normal,
since the new Jeeps just started rolling off the Toledo line in November.
I didn't drive the Renegade B-Ute because, true to the Leeroy Jenkins shout-out on its
front fenders, it refused to cooperate with the plan.
Nor were we able to get into the 4SPEED concept, which was a legitimate disappointment.
Jeep also had on hand the Porkchop and Stitch, two JK-based lightweight, two-door open concepts
built for prior Safaris, and they turned out to be the most fun of the bunch.
The 4SPEED hews to the same ideal as its predecessors, paying tribute to the sort of elemental machines
all too familiar to the prospectors who blazed these trails, but it does so with the aid
of the JL's excellent 2.0-liter hybridized turbo-four/eight-speed-automatic powertrain.
I absolutely adored this powertrain in the full-boat JL Rubicon four-door and would've
loved to experience it in a Wrangler stripped to its essence.
Unfortunately, Jeep's tech guys were still hooking up laptops to it in an effort to get
it to do the things it was supposed to do.
Thus, I didn't get to do the things in it that I wanted to do.
Like steal it.
The next morning, we climbed into new Rubicons and headed off down Behind the Rocks.
I first sampled the 2.0-liter hybrid four-door, then a 3.6-liter V-6–powered two-door softtop
equipped with a six-speed manual.
The long-wheelbase model was equipped with the JL's new power soft top, which opens
like a panoramic sunroof at the press of a button.
Temps were in the low 30s to high 40s.
I opened it anyway, for what is Jeeping without a bit of exposure to the elements?
I painlessly drove up a 36-degree slick-rock mound about 40 feet high, then drove back
down.
The extra torque offered by the electric motor means that slow, steady, even throttle application
is rewarded with a controllable and plentiful application of twist.
Lockers engaged, the stock Unlimited made short work of the climb.
Then I watched a guy in a slightly lifted two-door JK with a manual transmission attempt
the same climb.
It took him a few tries to get up, tires spinning and scrabbling for purchase.
The thought crossed my mind that he might go over backward.
He did not, but I imagine he shaved a few thousand miles off the life of his clutch.
The incident threw the long-wheelbase JL's capabilities into stark relief.
Hopping into the two-door manual Wrangler seemed, for a moment, like a step down.
Until I realized just how magical that 84.2:1 first-gear low-range crawl ratio was (autobox
Wranglers offer a still serious 74.2:1).
In low range, I could knock the fine-shifting trans into second gear, and the Jeep would
practically drive itself down all but the gnarliest of descents.
I have to say, I never warmed to the idea of the JK Wrangler as a daily driver.
Yes, it offered exceptional off-road prowess, but the previous marquee Jeep wasn't particularly
enjoyable to drive on the street.
It needed to be either nicer or more charmingly janky.
While the latter may have pleased a certain subset of hard-core Jeepers, Chrysler probably
wisely chose the former tack, and indeed, the JL is about as good as one could possibly
expect a vehicle with a pair of solid axles to be.
Perhaps even better.
It's a hugely capable rock crawler that one would be perfectly happy to drive to the
store or take on a primarily tarmac road trip.
It's in my nature to pick apart the narrative laid out by manufacturers, slice through the
hype, and lay the truth bare.
In fact, it's a little frustrating when I can't seem to poke holes in their spiel.
And although hard-core Jeepers will no doubt find some headache in the JL that they hadn't
faced with previous iterations of the CJ/Wrangler, the reality is that, out of the box, it's
a wonderful vehicle.
You could buy one, drive it off the lot a week before Easter 2019, take it to Moab,
wheel the pants off it, and have a grand old time.
It's a far cry from the old flat-fender CJ that Charlie Steen brought out here in
hopes of building himself an empire, but you'd be hard pressed to find a more perfect modern
machine in which to discover this phenomenal corner of the country.
Fiat Chrysler's narrative for the Cherokee Trailhawk, however, is a bit tougher to swallow.
Juddering down rocky inclines using Hill Descent Control, with the ABS throbbing like a short-circuiting
Hitachi Magic Wand, was a somewhat unpleasant experience after the sweet, controlled, ultra-low-range
satisfaction of the Rubicons.
Sometimes, low-hanging parts scraped.
It was, admittedly, a tougher trail than we'd think to take a crossover down, and each and
every Cherokee made it back to Moab in one piece.
But as much as Jeep has done to mitigate the inherent limitations of a compact CUV, and
as downright inhospitable as this environment would be to, say, a Honda CR-V or our 10Best
Trucks and SUVs–winning Mazda CX-5, the Trailhawk simply didn't seem to be enjoying
itself.
In contrast, the Wrangler was all too eager to mandate that you hold its proverbial beer
and watch as it made the improbable simple.
If you've yet to make it out to this part of the world, I have but one piece of advice:
come.
State Route 95 across Glen Canyon is one of the best motorcycle/sports-car roads in America.
There's good eating in Escalante.
Kanab's got the set of that Kenny Loggins Live from the Grand Canyon video.
And if you can cruise through Monument Valley without humming the Airwolf theme, I'll
give you three bucks the next time I see you.
There are hoodoos!
And a rock formation that looks like a Mexican hat!
There's hardly a bad bit of Utah, but the reddest parts are flat-out astonishing.
Bring a mountain bike, bring a motorbike.
Bring a 911, bring an RV.
Bring a burro, if you're so inclined.
But if you're into Jeeps, well, they've got a whole town built on the back of one.
That Jeep's still there in Moab, parked up behind Charlie Steen's old midcentury-modern
clifftop mansion.
You can even eat dinner there.
It's now a restaurant called the Sunset Grill.
For more infomation >> Jeep Grand Cherokee 3.0 CRD Limited Geel Kenteken | Rijklaarprijs - Duration: 1:06. 
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