I Just Got Extremely Lucky On My WWII Jeep Build: I Found The Ultimate ‘Reference’ Jeep

It was the night before my flight to Germany to see my family, and I still hadn’t packed. The following day was going to be a rush to the finish line, packing not just my own stuff, but also what I needed for my very first flight with an infant. I was nervous, which is why a shot of dread joined excitement coursing through my veins when I received a notification that someone was selling the perfect WWII “reference” Jeep only 90 minutes from me. I knew this was an opportunity sent from the heavens, and there was no way I could turn it down. But what about my flight?

After realizing the shocking number of World War II Jeep parts one can buy from eBay, I told eBay and they partnered with The Autopian so we could attempt something ambitious: I’m trying to build an entire WWII Jeep using as many parts from eBay as possible. I’ve already purchased an entire body.

Check this thing out:

I also purchased a whole frame. Look at this thing:

I also bought the entire brake hydraulic system, including brake lines, the primary cylinder, and wheel cylinders. Plus I bought leaf springs, leaf spring shackles, and more:

 

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I haven’t even scratched the surface on all the parts I’ll be ordering from eBay, but I knew that to complete this build in time for the Moab Easter Jeep Safari in early April I’d need some kind of “reference Jeep.” I bought a great book from eBay that details how to build a WWII Jeep, and that will join lots of other literature in helping my build gets close to completion, since this reference Jeep I bought is such a junker. But to try to get this project going at the rate needed to achieve my Moab Easter Jeep Safari deadline, I knew I needed something right there to look at and to pull the occasional small part from.

The goal, of course, is to buy as many parts from eBay as possible, and I already have the big things — the body and frame. I have a brand new engine coming in very soon, too (I cannot wait to show you that). But I know there are some parts that you’re just not likely to find anywhere online. Chief among those parts are axles. I know if I waited long enough, a set would pop up on eBay; here’s a CJ-2A axle, for example:

But time is of the essence, and nobody makes aftermarket axle housings, largely because the hundreds of thousands of original ones have — unlike the tinworm-prone body and frame — held up quite well. With so many originals around, the need for new, aftermarket ones just hasn’t been there. In fact, it wasn’t long ago that you literally couldn’t give away World War II axles; nobody wanted them!

But I do, because a set of World War II axles — a Dana 25 up front and a Dana 27 in the rear — represents the foundation of my build. Those two stick axles are the first major parts that I bolt to my frame (via leaf springs), creating a rolling chassis that I can dress up with a brake system, steering system, drivetrain, powertrain, and ultimately body.

It was therefore crucial that I find some axles, and soon, because my build couldn’t really begin, in earnest, without them. I was worried because I was heading to Germany for a few precious weeks that I could have otherwise used to build the Jeep. Maybe, just maybe, buying this “reference” Jeep would allow me to enjoy my time in Germany. Having possession of a vehicle — with axles, and with various other small parts that I might have struggled to find online (and crucially, mostly assembled to help me understand what goes where) — would prevent my transatlantic excursion from causing my build to fall behind track.

So I called the Jeep owner, who told me he was in California from Idaho because his father had sadly recently passed away, leaving multiple Jeeps behind. The gentleman was handling the estate, and wasn’t sure what the Willys MB was worth; it was rusty and crusty, and missing a wheel. Someone had apparently offered him $500. I was willing to go significantly higher because, if it was complete, the engine and transmission alone were worth a few grand if they were in decent order.

I was a bit concerned that the Jeep might have been a hodgepodge of random parts, as old flatfender Jeeps tend to be, but while on the phone with the gentleman, I heard someone else chime in. Apparently there was someone with the seller — someone extremely knowledgeable about World War II jeeps. He identified both axles as the Dana models original to the World War II Jeep. The transfer case, too — something that pretty much nobody sells online — was original, he said. He also knew some of the eBay sellers I was buying parts from, like Peter DeBella. The guy knew his stuff, so I was certain this was a mostly original WWII Jeep for sale near me for cheap.

I had no choice but to get it. And so, the morning of my transatlantic flight, I hit the road at 6AM with… no plan.

I Drove To The Desert, Blindly

I had told the seller I’d be at his property by 7:45, meaning I’d have to leave my house at about 6 AM. “I’ll text you my address once I hang up,” he’d told me the prior not. He did not. I texted him to ask for his location, but I received nothing.

Six o’clock came around, and I had a choice to make. Do I head in the general vicinity of El Mirage, near where the guy says he lives? How am I going to even get the Jeep back to my place?

I had no answer. But I did know one thing: I absolutely had to give this a shot. This Reference Jeep was the key to accelerating my Willys Jeep build, and I had been searching for a junky WWII Jeep for many months. Everything I had found up to that point was in terrible shape and at least six hours away.

So I jumped into my 1989 Chevy K1500, pointed its nose north towards the mountains, and let that 350 cubic-inch V8 roar as anxiety flowed through me. Where was I going? What shape was the Jeep really in? Why was it missing a wheel; could I even roll it? How would I get it home? Will I miss my flight? How much more do I need to pack? Luckily, I felt some comfort in the travel side of things, as my wife is extremely detail-oriented, and she had told me that if I made it back by 1 PM, we’d be fine.

The odds of me pulling this off given that I had no plan were slim, but I caught a break when the seller called me around 8AM apologizing and saying he’d just woken up. “I’m right near your house; I’m ready when you are!” I told him. I eventually arrived at this property in the middle of nowhere in the desert:

After the seller opened his gate, I drove in to see an old home in the back and a bunch of Jeeps lined up on the left. There was a CJ, a Ford GPW, and a Willys MB; I wanted the MB.

From a distance, the vehicle I was interested in didn’t look too terrible. The general shape appeared right, and the body panels look roughly the right shape. But when I looked up close it became clear that this thing is a three-wheeled bondo-covered rustbucket:

On the plus side, it did have an engine and transmission; the entire driveline and powertrain appeared complete.

“I’ll give you $1,500 for it,” I told the seller, “assuming I can figure out how to get this to my house in the next three hours.”

“Sure, but what are you going to do?” he replied. I had my Chevy pickup, but no trailer. And if I drove to U-Haul to pick up a trailer, and then drove to Harbor Freight to grab a come-along hand-winch to somehow limp the rustbucket onto that trailer, I’d run out of time and miss my flight.

Luckily, I caught two huge breaks. First, the seller had a spare wheel, which I zipped right onto that rear axle with the electric impact I had brought. Second, I decided to put in a AAA Roadside Assistance request via their online app and pray. I know technically AAA only does roadside assistance on registered cars, but it was the only option I had.

Thankfully, someone actually showed up.

Admittedly, when the driver arrived, he wasn’t pleased that he had to yank that Jeep up onto the trailer with four flat tires. “This isn’t a registered vehicle; this is not roadside assistance,” he told me, frustrated. “I’m only going to do this one time. Never gain!”

After I let him know I’d make this worth his while, the driver was super nice, and put the Jeep right up on his flatbed:

It was then that another truck blasted past the seller’s fence. “Oh boy,” the seller told me after I handed him the funds. “Those guys are here to buy this Jeep.”

“What Jeep? My Jeep?” I asked. “Yep.”

Luckily, the two gents were also interested in the CJ and Ford GPW Jeep, and they really only wanted the body from my vehicle — something I do not need. We exchanged contact info, and I went on my way, wiping sweat from my brow at the realization that me ending up owning this much-needed Reference/rare-parts Jeep had basically been a miracle.

So many things came together to make it happen. I had to learn about the Jeep while I was still in the country. The seller had to tell me his address, which I didn’t know when I left my house in the morning, within a few hours of me leaving. The seller had to have a spare wheel. The AAA driver had to save my bacon. And the other buyers had to show just 30 minutes too late.

Now my Reference Jeep sits in front of my house, and I feel significantly less nervous about this daunting project. May the 2025 World War II Jeep build begin.

[Ed note: David mentioned the idea of building a brand new WWII Jeep to the team at eBay, and they loved the idea so much they said, “How can we help?” Their financial support and David’s Jeep-obsession are the fuel behind this crazy build. – MH]