I Bought A 200,000 Mile Jeep Comanche Sight Unseen. Here’s What It Was Like Driving It 850 Miles Home

I’ve done cross-country roadtrips countless times. I’ve fixed some of the rustiest heaps on the face of the planet. I’ve off-roaded, I’ve cruised down iconic interstates, I’ve breezed through rural America on 35 mph back roads. And yet, this latest roadtrip in a 200,000 mile 1992 Jeep Comanche that I bought sight unseen from Idaho was different, in that it was the first cross-country road trip for the “new-DT.” Here’s what it was like.

It’s been well established that moving to California, running this company with JT and Matt, getting married, and having a child has completely changed my life from what it was in Michigan. My obligations are far-reaching and intense; the pressure — to deliver for my partners, for my employees, for you dear readers, and above all, for my family — yields tremendous anxiety if I think about it too much.

So what place in this new life of mine does a road-trip to pick up a junky old truck have? The answer: It has none. I realized this on the side of the road in Nevada at 1AM as I took a break from my battle with fatigue on my way back to my wife and infant child.

Why I Bought This Truck

I find myself grapping with this transition from old-me to new-me. I obviously still love cars, and I still love wrenching. In fact, I recently took an hour break from work and family stuff just to walk around a junkyard (I did snag some nice door-armrests for my Comanche). Cars are my happy place.

I love the problem solving, I love the tinkering, I just love the satisfaction of cruising down the street (or off-road) in a machine that’s running and driving perfectly because I fixed it up. That part of me is never going to change. And so I’m holding onto my (downsized) fleet of cars, even though there’s now a new guilt associated with owning anything for myself (because my family has to come first).

So when I realized that my beloved Jeep J10 was never going to pass SMOG, I decided I’d replace it instead of just get rid of it. My first attempt to replace my J10 (which I’ve owned for 10 years) was a 1989 Chevy K1500, which blew me away with its competence. But while it’s a great truck, it doesn’t quite fill the seven grille slots in my heart. I decided then that maybe I’d do an engine swap, installing a 4.0-liter fuel injected version of the J10’s 258 inline six; that would get me through SMOG. But I have no time for that.

That’s when a brilliant idea came to me: Why spend all that time and money swapping a 4.0 into a Jeep truck when I can just buy a Jeep truck that already has a 4.0. What’s more, this truck, the Jeep Comanche, would, at least in theory, offer some of the coolness of the J10, but blend it with some of the comfort I enjoyed from the fuel-injected Chevy K1500.

I Wasn’t Sure If I Was Going To Keep This Comanche

I was at Pebble Beach when I first spotted this red Comanche in Boise, and I’ll admit that, when I go up to Pebble Beach, all the excitement of the cars and auctions makes me want to add a new vehicle to my stable. Car-Buying Fever, they call it. (And by “they,” I mean “I”). So I called the seller, told him I’d pay his full $6500 asking price, and asked if he’d hold the truck for a while. And he did; for two entire months.

A few weeks ago, I got on a small airplane heading from Burbank to Boise, where I met the seller at the airport motel where he was staying, since he lived about 5 hours away and was doing me a solid driving the truck all the way down to Boise. I was impressed with the truck when I first saw it in the motel parking lot the night of my arrival, and the next day, I bought the machine from the seller — a kind man named Bill, who was selling his favorite vehicle to help pay some of the expenses associated with his cancer treatment.

I pointed the truck south through surprisingly bad Boise traffic and thought about what this truck meant to Bill and to the owner before him, and I worried: What if I don’t love it? What if I think the extremely cool-looking Jeep J10 is more fun to cruise around in? What if I think the extremely competent and comfortable 350-powered 5-speed K1500 is just the better truck overall? Both of these possibilities seemed plausible, as the Comanche’s styling isn’t quite as unique as the J10’s, and the aerodynamics/solid front axle means it’s likely not going to be anywhere near as comfortable as the K1500.

Plus, the Comanche is smaller than both, so would it be as useful? Add the fact that it didn’t have AC, and I was doubtful I’d keep this machine. But if I didn’t like the Comanche and I sold it right away, what would the previous owner — who loved the truck and held onto it for me because he thought I’d be a great new caretaker for his truck — think?

The Road Trip Felt Different Than Those Before

On top of my concerns about perhaps not liking the truck, I felt guilt. With house and health-care and formula and diaper expenses, I left my crying infant and overwhelmed wife at home and dropped $6500 on a pickup truck in Boise, Idaho.

See how that last sentence reads? Compare that to this same scenario a few years ago: “Single dude flies cross-country to pick up badass Jeep for a great deal. Takes it on epic road trip.” The two are completely different. And while I’m exaggerating a bit — my son isn’t always crying, and my wife can handle him (plus grandparents are 10 minutes away)  — that’s how it had registered in my head pretty much as soon as I had kissed my son and wife goodbye at the Burbank airport.

As I drove into the middle of nowhere, Oregon, it became clear to me that this Comanche is going to be my final vehicle purchase for years. This type of thing — an adventure much like those that helped built my career as a journalist — doesn’t work for me anymore; at least not now.

Why Buying A New (Used) Car Can Be Exhausting If You’re A Wrencher

Before I made it too far, I went through all the truck’s fluids in a Walmart parking lot. As I was about to drive 850 miles, I couldn’t take a chance on my differentials, transmission, or transfer case being dry. The last thing I want to do is have to rebuild or replace any of those; that would be a huge waste of money over just dropping $150 or so on fluids.

This was my first step in what wrenchers call “baselining” a new vehicle. This process involves replacing the fluids, assessing various components, and getting a few miles on the vehicle so you can figure out what needs maintenance/repair.

As I was swapping out the fluid in my 1 millionth Jeep AX15 and filling up my 5 millionth Dana 30 Jeep axle, I began to realize: This is exhausting.

I love wrenching, but I don’t love doing the exact same thing over and over. Building an engine I’ve never worked on? Great. Fixing a transmission for the first time? Awesome. But I’ve owned so many 1990s Jeeps that I can’t even count it on two hands. They’ve all had 4.0-liter engines, most have had this same AX-15 transmission, and as such, I’ve been doing the same repairs over and over.

When I first test-drove the Comanche, Bill pointed some things out. “Oh yeah, sometimes the speedometer stops working, but then while you’re driving it cuts back in.” I’d seen that before a million times. I then discovered that there was a bunch of oil in the air filter; that was the same crankcase ventilation system-clog problem I’ve solved on so many of my previous Jeeps. I then saw that the Jeep’s door was sagging, making lots of noise as I drove — yup, the hinge welds. I’d seen that before.

I’m so familiar with 4.0-liter-powered Jeeps that at this point I can diagnose and fix anything. And though that has its advantages, the thing about buying a new vehicle is that you have to re-baseline it. I have to drain and fill all the fluids (I only topped up the diffs and T-case). I have to replace the worn ball joints and tie rod ends and wheel bearings. I have to swap out the squeaky idler pulley. I have to rebuild the rear drum brakes.

Re-baselining this Comanche will have me doing a bunch of time-consuming tasks that I’ve done before, and honestly, the joy of it is wearing thin now that the opportunity cost is so high.

The Jeep Comanche Completely Exceeded My Expectations, And I Plan To Keep It Forever

I worried that this trip would pointless — that I had purchased this truck for no reason. I worried it would be too loud, too boring, too hot, not useful enough (unlike my K1500, it doesn’t have a back seat and can’t tow), and just a huge time-suck as I baselined it.

Add the guilt of taking time away from my family, and the first part of my trip from Boise to LA — a trip that took me into Oregon and along the west side of Nevada — had me feeling a bit weird. The truck was indeed hot and loud, and the fact that it was shooting oil into my air filter had me concerned about the state of the engine. 

But the transmission — a five-speed from Aisin — was perfect. Like this-feels-brand-new-perfect. The play in the shifter felt nonexistent, the synchros made shifting perfectly notchy, and the bearings were whisper-quiet.

The engine, while blowing oil into my filter, billowing from its valve cover, and just generally smelling disgusting, made great power and didn’t burn a single drop of oil. Hundreds of miles after hundreds of miles piled up in my rearview mirror, and the oil level remained exactly where it started.

I then discovered that the loud cabin was really just a result of that big gap in the saggy door. That, along with the knobby mud-terrain tires, was adding lots of decibels to that cabin, though I leaned over to the passenger’s side (where the door fits properly), and it’s much quieter.

Even fuel economy wasn’t bad given the oversize, aggressive tires and the camper on the back: 17 MPG.

Southeast Oregon and western Nevada are wide open, and though some find this (and drives like I-70 across Kansas) to be boring, I’ve always loved traveling through the middle of nowhere. To me, the wide open spaces and the tiny towns that dot them are a huge part of what makes an American Road Trip an American Road Trip. Especially now that I live in LA, the vastness of this beautiful country is something that I’ve always found to be beautiful unto itself.

Just look at the beautiful sky of western Nevada:

I took the photo above because I was beat. It was late on day 2 of my trip, and I wanted to get home to my wife and child. It still feels weird being away from them for any significant period of time.

But I trudged on, and arrived before morning, spending the following week using the Comanche for all sorts of tasks, including hauling an entire new Willys Jeep engine from Van Nuys to my place. I also drilled out a clogged intake fitting for my crankcase ventilation system, and this not only solved the issue of oil getting into my air filter, but it also reduced the oil leaks from the engine.

It’s during the last week that I’ve really come to love this Comanche. The engine doesn’t burn or leak oil, it makes excellent power, the transmission is awesome — this thing drives like a brand new truck, and it’s got zero major rust. It’s also the perfect size for my driveway and LA in general, its 7’4″ bed is plenty big for anything I need to haul, and my wife likes it (she says it’s more comfortable than even the Chevy).

This is a truck I genuinely enjoy driving around, even just for a random cruise around the block. It should have no trouble passing SMOG, parts availability is decent thanks to its Cherokee XJ mechanicals, and I just find it charming as all heck.

At the start of the trip I was concerned that this trip away from my family would be pointless, and that the Comanche wouldn’t have the soul of the J10 or the comfort of the Chevy, but actually it has both. It’s an absolutely fantastic machine to the point where I don’t think it will be painful at all parting ways with my beloved J10 and K1500.

And I can’t wait to give my son a ride in it someday.

All photos by David Tracy