Back in the Spring of 1976 I bought my 1960 Willys Jeep pickup. It's been at the center of many fine adventures, though recently it’s pretty much been relegated to my garage, the occasional dump run, and providing inspiration to write and paint.
I first noticed it sitting out in the middle of a field south of Idaho Falls, Idaho, and tracked down (as it turned out) the owner's widow. She told me her husband had been out raking their 20 acre potato field two years prior by pulling an array of old bed springs behind the Jeep. When he got out to clear the springs at the edge of the field, his heart gave out. The widow agreed to sell it to me for $700, including an 8-foot Meyer snow plow. I paid her the cash, got the title and left it sitting there for another couple of months while I made arrangements to get it to Salt Lake City, where I was living at the time.
I first noticed it sitting out in the middle of a field south of Idaho Falls, Idaho, and tracked down (as it turned out) the owner's widow. She told me her husband had been out raking their 20 acre potato field two years prior by pulling an array of old bed springs behind the Jeep. When he got out to clear the springs at the edge of the field, his heart gave out. The widow agreed to sell it to me for $700, including an 8-foot Meyer snow plow. I paid her the cash, got the title and left it sitting there for another couple of months while I made arrangements to get it to Salt Lake City, where I was living at the time.
When I finally got back to it, the truck started right up and ran okay, though there were a number of things needing repair. The side windows had been shot out, for example,
and the outside driver's side door handle was missing (I actually got a replacement for that on the return trip from Idaho to Salt Lake City when I spotted another old Willys abandoned outside an Ogden wrecking yard. I jumped out with my tool box and stripped as much stuff as I could before anyone noticed).One major issue was a non-functional righthand locking hub, so I wouldn’t have 4-wheel drive until it was fixed. My good friend Jim Pissot had ordered brand new hubs for his Willys wagon and planned on giving me his old (but still good) Warn hubs. I was, though, champing at the bit to go 4-wheeling. As soon as the new hubs were on, another dear old friend, Dave Cochran and I took the Willys up into the foothills behind the Utah State Capital and romped around on some of the really steep stuff up there. It was very cool how the old guy was just unstoppable with that 488 gear set.
The next day I went out to see another friend, Chuck Thompson, another car guy. He immediately wanted to go 4-wheeling, so we drove out to my old neighborhood in the foothills south of the city. There was this fire road that cut straight up a ridgeback on the face of the mountain just north of the mouth of Little Cottonwood Canyon. I had stared at that seemingly vertical road all my life.
I had tried to climb it several times on various motorcycles but was never able to—it was just too steep. My Triumph Cub just didn't have the horses and I couldn't keep the front end down on my Hodaka Super Rat. I went ass-over-tea-kettle more than a few times before giving up. ---->
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