Yep. I bought one. I know. Let me explain.
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| This isn't mine. But it's virtually identical. I'll have to take some pictures of my G-Wag later. |
My college roommate and I both played football, but we
really just wanted to hunt and fish. His uncle (an avid fly fisherman and bird
hunter) invited us to go grouse hunting with him. My roommate and I drove to
his cabin near New Tazwell. He had two cars: a Porsche 911 and a fairly new
Jeep Grand Wagoneer. So cool! We tied flies (it’s a trout fishing thing) until
late, woke up in the morning and loaded the Wag. You’ve got to understand,
even in 1988, the Wagoneer was a relic of days gone by. Conceived in the late
50s, the basic design had not changed since its debut in 1963. It was like an
old-school station wagon—woodgrain sides and all—only it had four-wheel-drive
and the masculine face of a truck. If you weren’t around in the 80s, you must
know that small cars like the VW Rabbit and Honda Prelude were the trend. Even
the trucks were smaller and their weakened engines were choked with CAFE-mandated
catalytic converters and smog equipment. So we loaded the guns and Pointers (bird
dogs) in the custom-caged back and hit the road. I was surprised at how well it
rode and the comfort of the leather-couch seats, yet the big, smooth AMC V-8
engine sounded like a muscle car and effortlessly pulled up steep hills. When
the road ended it crawled up the side of Clinch Mountain without spinning a
tire. That was when I thought, “I want one of these.”
I met Darla that year, and a year-and-a-half later I
graduated and we were married. Every car decision we’ve made since has been,
well, practical. Reliability, reasonable gas mileage, affordability, and
adequate space for our growing family have been the determining factors. That
is until a couple of weeks ago.
So in the weeks preceding Christmas, that ‘89 Wagoneer on
Western was whispering my name. I thought, “I wonder if it’s for sale.” It was.
Weeks went by. “I need that like a hole in the head!” I said to myself whenever I
drove by. Then I inched closer: I stopped just to look in the window. “It must
be rough on the inside or have rust.” Nope. It was in excellent shape inside and
out! Weeks went by. “They must be asking too much for it.” I looked online to see
what similar Wags were selling for. They were hard to find. Most available ones
are trashed. But good ones were going for 7k to 9k. Some really nice or
restored ones were going for 40k! A guy in California is restoring them better-than-new with all the modern conveniences and fancy engines for 130k+!!!
Then I did it. I went inside the place and asked how much
they were wanting for it. I don’t want to divulge details, but let’s just say I
was surprised...pleasantly! “Something must be wrong with it or someone doesn’t
know what these things are worth.” It seemed too good to be true. Turns out the
guy who owns the shop (a really good guy) was selling it for his friend who he
said took meticulous care of it. So I drove it. I got my buddy Brett (a real
car guru) to check it out with me. I asked a mechanic friend to check it out,
too. Everyone was saying, “Looks good to me.”
Meanwhile, I drove Darla insane. Over Christmas and New
Year’s I couldn’t get my mind off it. “It would be so cool...Drew and I can
work on it...I can always sell it if we need the money...I don’t really have a
hobby...It would be cheaper to keep it running than to buy a new car...” Much
to my surprise, she said, “Why don’t you just buy it.” [It was like that moment in Rocky II when Adrian awoke in the hospital and said, “Win.”
Bonggggggggggggggg.] I made an (even lower) offer. Yikes! A woman had just
offered full asking price for it. She didn’t come through. The Wag was mine.
“What have I done?” I thought as I drove away. A couple of
days later I got gas (it’s pretty thirsty!). A guy at the next pump who saw the
temporary tag in the window asked, “Did you just buy that?” “Yep,” I said not
knowing whether to feel proud or embarrassed. “How much did you pay?” I
laughed, “I’m not telling you that!” He replied, “Would you be interested in
selling it? I’ve been looking for one of those.” I wasn’t. Perhaps I should
have at least seen what he would pay! Crazy!!!
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| Again, not mine. This one's a tad lighter maroon and has white wall tires. Awesome! |
Was that confirmation that I had made a good deal? Or was
God showing me mercy—giving an opportunity to get my money back before it was
too late? I don’t know. What I do know is there are lots of little things to
fix: rattles, the radio, a finicky dash light, the power seats and door
locks... But it is soooo fun to drive! Taking it to the office is like a
15-minute vacation—or like a time machine back to a simpler day. For some crazy
reason, I LOVE driving it.
I know. Most who read this still don’t understand. And I’m
not sure I do either.
