Six years ago in October, I bought a new Jeep. I still have it but never introduced it to this site, so here we go – a “stuck in draft mode” style introduction to also talk about what it means to be a “real Jeep.” And by “real Jeep” I don’t mean a Wrangler with a CJ front clip – or a JK with a light bar – I mean a mechanically needy thing with spite and a motive. Something that wants to be broken, fixed, abused, broken and fixed again. Reader, meet RJ. RJ. Meet Reader.

RJ started out and still is a 1997 Cherokee XJ coupe (sure, I can call it that – it has two doors but a back seat. Textbook coupe). I bought it in Portageville, NY, near Letchworth State Park. The seller bought it in Pennsylvania near the Maryland border, so its salt exposure was much less severe than if it was a true western New Yorker. It was for that reason (and the fact it was a four liter, AX15 manual transmission 4×4 with 138 thousand miles) that it caught my interest. Then I test drove it.

The drivetrain was everything I wished my last XJ was – smooth and easy to drive. I knew from my first 2-3 shift that I wanted it. But I had a problem, I already had a second car.

In my second to the last post, I was down to one car – my 05 Outback – and on the hunt for a second. Well, unbeknownst to you, I had found one, sold it, and bought this Jeep. The car I sold – another stick-shift 96-99 Subaru Outback. If you know my automotive history, that was a strange, three-month rebound.

Anyway, I managed to luck out and get the Subaru sold before the Jeep’s seller found a buyer who was willing to match his price – $5,500 and he wasn’t ready to budge yet. I knew what I had to do – match his price and continue to be the guy who buys overpriced, stock XJs.

“You paid how much!?! I paid $300 for mine and my cousin bought one with an eight-inch lift for $1000. You got ripped off!”

Look, man, I’m not in this for a $300 car. If I was, I’d buy a $300 car.

Anyways again… I once again had a Jeep and it was wonderful. It became my primary mode of transportation for the eight months you didn’t know about it. You want to know what I did? I drove it. I didn’t even change its oil.

Now though, things are different. RJ is a lean-mean road machine. A model of obscurity in a land of autonomy. It has manual windows. Manual side view mirrors. It even has a cassette player. It has no ABS. Drum brakes in the rear. Two solid axles and steering designed when my grandfather was still a child-less single success. I never lose it in a parking lot.

Little upgrades here and there can really turn an aging car into something that’s wonderful – reliable transportation that’s entertaining in all situations. So, next time you’re looking to buy a new car, don’t. Give an old car a try. Find one that’s been well maintained and don’t be afraid to get your hands dirty to maintain it. It’s true conservation if you ask me. Don’t force the market to continually pollute in order to produce something brand-new. Raise that middle finger in the air and rock your old, obsolete piece of rebellion.