JK-Forum Reviews the 2015 Jeep Wrangler Willys Wheeler
In 1945, after years of transporting GIs in its Quad, MA, and MB vehicles (General Dwight D. Eisenhower said, “America could not have won World War II without” that last model), the Willys-Overland company transitioned into civilian life. It began producing the CJ-2A metal workhorse, targeting farmers and construction workers as its primary customers. The rig was equipped with features such as a tailgate, a side-mounted spare, and an external fuel cap. Willys introduced the CJ-3A, in 1948. Although it was very similar to its predecessor, it was upgraded with a one-piece windshield and a sturdier rear axle.
Chrysler’s press release for the Jeep Wrangler Willys Wheeler mentions those two models by name and their “go-anywhere capability and strictly functional amenities.” Jeep’s president and CEO Mike Manley said, “The new Jeep Wrangler Willys Wheeler Edition is a Jeep purist’s dream, delivering a Jeep vehicle that harkens back to the original, classic CJs of the 1940s. This new Jeep vehicle delivers pure functionality and rugged capability in a unique package that recognizes the origins of the brand.” I haven’t had the pleasure of driving the CJ-2A or -3A, but my week with Jeep’s new Willys Wheeler showed me it was certainly a fitting tribute to their simplicity and off-road readiness.
Exterior/Interior
My $35,615 tester, which started life as a Wrangler Sport 4X4, was ordered with the $6,100 Willys Edition 24W package. Visually, that included a pair of faux-aged Willys hood graphics and a four-wheel drive decal — a la the CJ-3A — on the rear swing gate, as well as a high-gloss black grille and equally shiny 17-inch wheels. The more vintage touches clashed with the modern Hydro Blue Pearl paint under them. The factory rock rails and BFGoodrich Mud-Terrain T/A tires were ready for some clashing of their own. A Trac-Lok rear differential and 3.73 gears rounded out the package’s array of hardware. If it hadn’t been so cold and drizzly outside when I was around my home base, I would’ve taken full advantage of the $2,185 Dual Top Group option by removing the three-piece Freedom Top and using the Sunrider lid for just letting in the outdoors.
Inside, the WW’s unheated, manually adjustable cloth seats and lack of navigation were off-set by a five-speed automatic transmission, SiriusXM satellite radio, a leather-wrapped steering wheel with cruise control and audio switchgear, and a tire pressure monitoring system. The $1,495 Power Convenience Group brought with it additives such as power mirrors, windows, and locks; remote keyless entry; and a security alarm. I wouldn’t call the interior luxurious, but I also wouldn’t say I really wanted for anything. I expected the Willys to be a utility blade, not a fancy carving knife.
The WW’s rear storage compartment and passenger space had their obvious limits, but didn’t cause me any headaches. I’m 5’10” and when I sat on the back bench behind the driver’s seat, my knees brushed against its back. My pal Dan’s 5’3″ fiancée Sarah didn’t seem to need more room when she was in the rear seat. The 12.8-cubic-foot rear cargo area suggested any packing would have to be light.
On-Road
I felt both love and loathing for the WW’s compact dimensions. Its 152.8-inch overall length made it easy to back up and park without worrying about bumping into something. (However, the view out of the back window was obscured by the third brake light, the spare tire, the second row’s head rests, and the housing for the rear wiper’s mechanicals.) I blame the Wrangler’s 95.4-wheelbase for the fact that I constantly had to make minor steering corrections to keep going straight. The blue box-on-wheels was eager to go wherever it was pointed. No matter which way the Jeep and I went, throughout our travels, it made me aware of every bump in the pavement – seat-first.
Engine and Transmission
Although the cabin didn’t leave much to desire, the 3.6-liter Pentastar V6 did. It produced 285 horsepower and 260 pound-feet of torque, but it could’ve used another 20 horses. There was just no sense of urgency to its power delivery. The engine made a coarse sound when called upon, as if it were annoyed by my request for acceleration.
The five-speed automatic didn’t miss a beat. I do think its gear count needs an update, though. It’s not just that the Wrangler’s siblings have six-, eight-, or nine-speed boxes. It’s that adding another cog (or three) could increase the Wrangler’s fuel economy and travel range. Right now, it sits at an EPA-rated 17 city, 21 highway, and 18 combined mpg. I managed to hit a number slightly north of that last figure.
Off-Road
Halfway through my week with the Willys, I took it and a couple of my friends out for some off-roading at the Hidden Falls Adventure Park in Marble Falls, Texas. After splashing through mud holes and bombing down rocky dirt roads, we came upon a dauntingly vertical trail. I decided to give it a shot, knowing the Jeep was infinitely more capable than I was. My confidence in it was contagious and I soon had the same confidence in myself. I popped the transmission into neutral, muscled its neighboring lever into 4L, then tackled the first section of the steep, boulder-strewn rise. My knuckles were probably white as I tried to keep the wheel straight. Mother Nature bounced and jostled me and my pals on our climb to the halfway point.
The next stretch was more intimidating. It looked even steeper and more uneven than the incline we had just ascended. Our first attempt up was unsuccessful. After reversing and altering our line of attack, we absolutely billy-goated our way to the top. My blood ran cold when I realized we would have to go the exact opposite way down to get to where we needed to be next. The good news was that my tester had Hill Descent Control. The bad news? The decline was so dramatic that I still had to work the brake pedal to feel comfortable with my downhill speed. Soon, my buddies and I were on level ground, where we breathed sighs of relief.
It was an adventure I’ll always look back on fondly. Of course it was special to me, but I realize it was not a unique occurrence. Thousands before me have enjoyed similar experiences. Some did so back in the 1940s, without satellite radio playing in the background as they wound their way through uncharted wilderness, without antilock brakes to keep them from skidding into a ravine. I imagine quite a few of those people reached a summit or two with some good friends and a Willys, though. Just as I did.
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