The return of the Red Wrangler

In April of 1991, after a couple of years of dedicated saving, a certain young man bought a red Jeep Wrangler. For some time he had dreamed of exploring the vast Rocky Mountain backcountry and the desert southwest. Now that dream could finally become a reality. Next to his modest townhouse, it was his most valuable possession.

The jeep had a black hard top that soon came off for the summer. And what a summer it was, full of four-wheeling, mudding, climbing and stream fording. There as also plenty of open highway cruising, for the young man soon re-learned the joys of motoring with the wind in his hair, the open sky above his head, and the endless sense of possibility.

Re-learned? Yes. This young man remembered, as a boy, riding with his father in a 1966 red Mustang convertible. He remembered the fun they had together coming home from minor-league baseball games; listen to the recap on the radio, looking up at the stars, occasionally falling asleep before arriving home. He remembered one night, in particular, when it began to rain as father and son were leaving the ballpark. Remembered his father saying, mischievously, “We could put the top up, but by the time we did, we’d be just as wet as if we drove home with it down,” and so they raced home, faster than prudent, laughing the entire way.

These memories, and others, flooded back that summer as the young man drove around the West. That summer, and the ones that followed, were full of adventure. There was the time, the Friday night before Labor Day weekend, he decided on a whim to drive all night to Moab, Utah and join up with a jeep rally over the red slickrock. Crossing a high mountain pass at midnight, top down, freezing cold, shivering like mad and singing with the tape deck at the top of his lungs. Pulling into a convenience store at the bottom of the pass an hour later, getting a hot chocolate, the clerk saying, “Hey, buddy, are you okay?”

“I –I-I’m j-j-j-ust f-f-f-fine thanks!” he replied.

Remembering sleeping upright in the jeep for two hours in a grocery store parking lot, waking up, eating dry oatmeal and granola bars for breakfast, then bashing over the slickrock all day. Driving home in the driving rain, top down. Sleeping for 14 hours the following day.

Other memories. Pulling a stranded pickup out of Salt Creek in the depths of Canyonlands National Park. Driving the Skyline trail in August, forced to turn back at 10,500 feet because of deep snow. A late September evening, accompanied by a comely young woman, both wearing t-shirts and shorts, driving from the valley floor up one of the steep canyons, trying to see who would ask to turn back first because of the cold. Getting to the top, neither one willing to give in. Both freezing cold.

One, very obviously cold.

Both, later, very warm.

There were many such adventures.

But the years rolled by. The young man changed jobs, became engaged, got married, bought a house, bought a larger, more sensible vehicle, and had kids.

In short, he grew up. And in the process, had far fewer adventures.

The Single Man became The Family Man. But two things came along for the entire journey. Old Friend, and the red Jeep Wrangler.

Yes, I still have the Jeep. And no, I don’t drive it very often. It’s not that car-seat friendly, and with the SUV it really isn’t necessary to use it.

The past few years I’ve traded the Jeep back and forth with my dad. He keeps it for the winter, so he can use it to get up the canyons to go skiing. Apparently his candy-ass import luxury SUV isn’t tough enough to get up the hill when there’s a bit of snow on the road. That, or he prefers the look of the Jeep as he pulls into the parking lot.

I get it back for the summer, so I can take the top off and Go Have Fun.

But as I’ve just old you, I haven’t done much of that the last few years. There’s never enough time, it seems, and Chris and Tommy have been too young to enjoy it. Plus my full size SUV is far safer for the boys to ride in. Yes, I care about that.

But this summer I went up to dad’s place and claimed the jeep. Took it in for some service. Three days later and $1,500 dollars lighter in the wallet, the Jeep is back and parked in my driveway.

It looks damn good.

So Saturday I told MBW I needed a few hours to myself. I took the top off the jeep and headed out on the open road once again.

After about 30 seconds it all came flooding back. The feeling of driving with the wind in your hair, the sun on your back, the open road. The freedom.

And as I drove I experienced the opposite feeling of a couple of weeks ago. I began to feel younger, more energized, more virile. I glanced in the mirror and by God, it looks like the faint streaks of gray along my temples have disappeared! The lines around my eyes are fewer, less obvious. My stomach feels flatter.

And, hey, did that young hottie just Check Me Out?

She sure as hell did!

Now I am feeling fine as I head up the canyon. I remember all over again how great it is to go up one of the gorgeous, narrow canyons near where we live and be able to truly appreciate the beauty, because you can see so much more with no roof over your head. It’s simply wonderful, in the fall, to go for a drive and soak in the splendor without having to stick your head out the window and crane your neck up.

But as I go along I find that I am reminiscing less and thinking more about the future. About taking MBW, Chris and Tommy on these rides. I find I’m not interested in blasting off overnight to Utah and re-creating those adventures. I’m thinking instead about taking the day off from work, taking my family to Moab in the big SUV and towing the jeep. Spending the night in a motel. Waking up, having a real breakfast, and taking some of those wonderful trails, soaking in the experience, having a ball watching the expressions on my boys’ faces.

Maybe it’s a sign of getting old, slowing down. Or maybe it’s a sign of growing up, thinking about others instead of myself.

Maybe it’s both.

I’m now trading places with my father, wanting to share with my boys the fun of Riding With The Top Down. I’m thinking of all the things we’ll do.

I grew up in upstate New York, far from where we live today. Back there we didn’t have the majestic Rocky Mountains as our playground, the entire West as our personal Adventure Sandbox. It’s actually a massive coincidence that my dad and I live in the same city today.

But I’m a dad now, I have two great boys and we are going to do all of what my dad and I did, and more.

Recreating memories, and making new ones.

One last Single Man moment. On one of the many Jeep safaris I went on, our group was heading over a long road of broken slickrock at the bottom of a steep canyon. Up at the top was a highway overlook, where people could park their cars, get out, walk up to the rail at the edge of the cliff and look out over the vast, scenic network of cliffs and canyons. From there, you can see the trail we were driving on.

I know, because I once stood there myself. And I wondered where that trail went.

But now I was on the trail, about to find out. Looking up, I realized that I was one of the people Doing, not one of the people Watching. Going somewhere, not standing still. Experiencing life, not watching it go by. And I knew there was someone up there thinking, “I wonder where those guys are going?”

Write your address on a piece of paper and toss it over the edge, friend. I’ll send you a postcard.

A couple of years from now I’ll take Chris, Tommy, and MBW if she’ll come, and I’ll show them where that road goes. I’ll show them the Anasazi rock art that is over 1,000 years old, the rock art most of the tourists passing through never see. I’ll show them the hidden stone arch, even more beautiful than the dozens in the National Park, that you can only see from eight miles down a rugged, rocky jeep trail.. We’ll drive up the canyons in the fall, take one of the rough side roads, and experience the leaves as you can only do in a jeep.

And we’ll come home from a baseball game, in the rain, laughing all the way.

We’ll have adventures. We’ll make memories. And we’ll have a ball.

We’ll be the people who DO, not the people who Watch.

Hang on to your hats, boys! The red Wrangler is back.

We’re goin’ Jeepin!

I can’t wait.

It’s great to be The Family Man!