Farming with a Willys Overland Jeep farm tractor

This promotional video (almost 25 min!) illustrates just how hard Willys was pushing the CJ series as a farm (and industry) tool.

“Now it’s a Truck… Now it’s a Tractor… Now it’s a Runabout… Now it’s a Mobile Power Unit.”

“Willys claimed the Jeep could “pull a 5,500-pound load on the highway at a good speed.” The company also claimed the Jeep could “do the job of two heavy draft horses operating at a speed of 4mph, 10 hours a day, without causing the engine to overheat.”

Can’t find a date on this film but probably late 40’s or early 50’s, so would have been shown in movie theaters.

Dogs of March

With Barb in Florida for 10 days, the dogs had to make do with time in her chair.

At 5 months+, Jessie finally starting to calm down a little. But the urge to bite the hand that feeds you is strong.When the coveted Barb Chair is taken, Jessie makes do with a nearby place in the sun.When the Alpha Dog returns, it’s all aboard!

“Perceived safety”

UPDATE: After a little more thought and some measurements, I cancelled this order. These straps look kind of cool but wouldn’t make me any safer.

When I purchased the Jeep there were a couple of vintage seat belts tucked under the seat. Maybe from a 70s era Chrysler? They were ugly and didn’t look safe so I removed them.

After riding around in a vehicle with no doors, seat belts seemed like a sensible idea so I purchased a set. (Paul called them “perceived safety.”) After struggling to install them I decided I did NOT need seat belts and put them back in the box. No turn signals, no seat belts! Then I started seeing photos and video of military era Jeeps with “safety straps.”
Looks like they might keep an old guy from tumbling out of the Jeep and I’ll settle for that. And in the event I’m surprised by a German patrol, I do NOT want to fuck with a stuck seat belt latch.

Jeep: Plugging Holes

Previous owners of the Jeep had added some switches that no long switch anything, so I removed them. Leaving some unsightly holes. (first two photos)


The black rubber grommets didn’t look bad but there was still a little camo paint left so…


Sloppy paint job but after the Jeep gets some hot sun this summer, I’m hoping for a nice even fade.

Jeep: Tracing Wires

My beloved Land Rover has spent the last day and night outdoors to make room for the Jeep. A temporary move, I promise.
There are a few mystery switches on the Jeep so I decided to see if I could trace the wires back to something no longer needed.
There’s a real rat’s nest of wires behind the dash and I might –or might not– try to tidy up.
In the photo below you see holes where I removed switches for the windshield wiper (I’m going manual, baby!); the rollbar lights; and a cigarette lighter. I’ll plug the holes with some nice rubber grommets. I traced a wire from the master toggle back to the brake lights but can’t seem to make those work.
I pulled the access cover to get at the brake fluid cylinder. Didn’t have the nerve to go further. Hard to believe folks kept a close eye on brake fluid levels.While crawling around under the Jeep I noticed oil dripping from one corner of the oil pan (?). Paul thinks this might be a matter of retorquing the bolts which might have loosened up over time, or the gasket could have shrunk a small amount.

Jeep: Test Drive #2


In this 3 1/2 min video I take the Jeep for another drive, getting used to a new shifting pattern and the overall ride. My Land Rover cruises comfortably at 40-45 mph, I don’t think I’ll be pushing the Jeep much beyond 35 mph. Have to make sure the brakes are working properly. Currently, I really have to stand on the brake to stop. Once I’m sure I can operate safely, I’ll take the Jeep onto some city streets.

The Art of Resurrection

“To know how a car works and how to repair it is to liberate oneself from an endless cycle of consumption.”

I know almost nothing about “how a car works and how to repair it” and it’s a little late in the game to hop off the “endless cycle of consumption,” but this article by Andrew Messick nicely sums up the appeal of my old vehicles. A few excerpts:

It was a good car, but it operated in a bland, even mundane, way. It performed every action I asked of it without complaint, without grumbling, without emotion, without any sort of personality. It was smart enough to tell me all of its ailments. A flashing exclamation point would show me a low tire. A phone notification would tell me my doors were unlocked. A gentle blue light would show it wasn’t quite warm enough to turn the heat on. But if I so much as put a wrench to the car, it would fall to pieces, and there would be nothing I could do to fix it due to its sheer complexity. 

This thing—this slow, lumbering piece of antiquity, this archaic hindrance to staying within the speed limit—has brought me more satisfaction than any flashy new car possibly could. There is an indescribable joy I experience when I pull the choke, press the starter button, and give a slight tap on the gas.

The new car, which was Disposable, was just a machine. Granted, it was a reliable, thoroughly trustworthy machine, but one lacking all soul, all sense of uniqueness. So mundane it blended into the parking lot, it had perfected the art of invisibility through being completely identical to everything around it.

But to own a car that requires only basic maintenance, something that one can do by themselves, to utilize that local corner mechanic, who may even be a staple of your community, to know your belongings beyond simply turning them on and using them, is to liberate oneself from the endless cycle of consumption.

It leaks when it rains. The “new car smell” passed from it decades ago. The factory optional heater—a drum of roughly coffee-can proportions with two small gates that either defogs your windshield or blows out a weak breath of lukewarm air onto your legs—achieves warmth that is only slightly better than freezing. Yet I would rather feel a waft of lukewarm air on my skin than pay a monthly subscription for seat heaters.