Which Fixer-Upper Would You Tackle? 1984 Ford F250 vs 1997 Jeep Wrangler

The idea of buying a car you can’t drive until you fix it strikes fear into the hearts of many people, but others see it as a challenge. If you are of the former persuasion, you probably won’t think much of today’s choices, but if you are of the latter, I have a couple of vehicles from (clap-clap-clap-clap) deep in the heart of Texas you might want to take a look at. One of them you can even drive home, if you’re careful.

I was surprised by the results of yesterday’s poll. I fully expected the Subaru Forester to win, based on familiarity and parts availability, but it seems like the tree damage combined with the removed cats was just too much for most of you. The Saturn Astra sailed to an easy win.

Between these two specific cars, I would absolutely take the Astra. Both of them have been messed with, but the Forester seller seems proud of the butchery, whereas the Astra seller is apologetic. Besides, I have driven a couple of Astras, and I really liked them; very Focus- or Golf-like, which I guess makes sense. I really dig that European hatchback feel.

I’ve never bought a non-running car. I’ve had plenty that needed to be driven straight home and worked on immediately, and one that broke down on the way home and needed to be towed most of the way, but I’ve never handed over money for something that didn’t start when you turned the key. I know plenty of people who have, however, and some of those non-running vehicles ended up being really great buys. But for that to work, you have to really know what you’re looking at, and go into it with your eyes wide open.

Of course, the same applies to a vehicle that starts and runs just fine, but needs to be made safe to drive before it hits the open road. It’s a leap of faith either way, and a real test of your wrenching skills. Today, we’re going to look at one vehicle from each category, and see which one you’re more comfortable fixing.

1984 Ford F250 XL – $2,500

Engine/drivetrain: 6.9-liter OHV diesel V8, three-speed automatic, RWD

Location: Austin, TX

Odometer reading: 84,000 miles

Operational status: Does not run, needs fuel pump

It seems like us humans love to romanticize hardship. Lots of people love the idea of an old truck, but if actually presented with the rough ride, deafening noise, heavy controls, and lousy fuel economy of one, they’d pass. But couples love to get wedding photos taken with old trucks, models love to pose with them, and no trip to a farm for cider and pumpkins in the fall is complete without seeing whatever old truck sits derelict on the lawn. This comes as a great amusement to those of us who actually own and drive old trucks. But if you’d like to take a chance on an old truck of your own, may I suggest this Ford? It’s a lawn ornament right now, but with some care and feeding, it could be back bouncing along a country road in no time.

This is a three-quarter-ton F250, for that extra teeth-rattling jolt over bumps in exchange for more weight carrying capacity than you’ll likely ever need. Its engine is a 6.9-liter IDI diesel V8, made by International Harvester, and its transmission is a beefy Ford C6 automatic. It does not currently run; the seller says it needs a new fuel pump. Unfortunately, that could mean two different things in this truck: it could mean the small diaphragm-style pump on the side of the engine that draws fuel up from the tanks, or it could mean the high-pressure diesel injector pump. One is a $25 part – and the other is more like $500. My gut tells me that it’s not the cheap pump, or the seller would have already fixed it. But these old simple mechanical diesels are always in demand, so it’s probably worth fixing, even if it requires replacing the injector pump.

It’s an XL model, which in 1984 was the “kinda fancy” model, not as cushy as the XLT, but way nicer inside than the base model. It has carpet and cloth seats in good condition, and it has some options like power windows and cruise control that were probably pretty rare in a truck in 1984. It almost certainly has air conditioning too, but there’s no way to know if it works until you get the engine running.

It has some rust outside, but on a truck this age you just call that “character.” As long as the frame is solid and the floors are still there, you’re good. Ford offered quite a few two-tone paint patterns on its trucks in the ’80s, but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen this arrangement before. I can’t decide if I like it or not. It looks sort of unfinished.

1997 Jeep Wrangler – $2,800

Engine/drivetrain: 2.5-liter OHV inline-4, five-speed manual, 4WD

Location: Fort Worth, TX

Odometer reading: 200,000 miles

Operational status: Runs and drives, but frame is rusted out

I’m not as Jeep-crazy as our illustrious editor-in-chief is, but then I don’t think anyone is. I do have an appreciation for them, though. I learned to drive in a CJ-8 Scrambler that belonged to my uncle, and a neighbor down the street had a CJ-5 that he gave me rides in a couple of times. And I well remember the howls of derision from both of them when the YJ-chassis Wrangler was announced: Square headlights? A padded dash? What is this, an Oldsmobile? In their minds, and the minds of many others, “YJ” stood for “Yuppie Jeep.” I never heard their opinions about the TJ series, which regained round headlights but got even more car-like with its coil-spring suspension, but I can imagine. But I’ve driven a TJ, and as far as I’m concerned, it’s a real Jeep through-and-through.

From the very beginning all the way up through the TJ, the base engine in a Jeep was a four-cylinder. And most of the time, it was plenty of power. Sure, it’s a little sluggish on the road compared to the six and eight cylinder options, but when you’re playing off-road, the last thing you want to do is throw a ton of horsepower at the problem. A basic Jeep like this with the standard 2.5-liter four and a five-speed stick does just fine. This one runs and drives well, but it is beginning to succumb to a Jeep’s worst enemy: rust. The rear portion of the frame is getting pretty bad, it sounds like. The seller says they would no longer trust it for daily use as-is. All is not lost, however, because the deal includes a rust-free TJ frame. All you have to do is completely disassemble it, transfer everything over from the rusted-out frame to the new one, and put it all back together. Easy-peasy lemon-squeezy, right?

The TJ continued the taming of the Jeep’s interior begun by the YJ by including such luxuries as airbags and a car-like dashboard. It’s still a Jeep, though, so you can still take the doors off and fold the windshield down, if you really want to. If bugs in your teeth aren’t your thing, this one does have air conditioning, but it doesn’t work. You’ll have to figure out what’s wrong yourself. Hey, at least the seller didn’t say it “just needs a charge.” The seats are in decent condition, but nearly every plastic surface inside is scrached and beat all to hell. Someone has been enjoying this thing in proper Jeep fashion.

Apart from the frame rust, and a couple spots in the floors that need patching, the body looks fairly solid. I’m sure you’d find more rust if you started digging, but it’s a Jeep, not a show car. It’s missing some paint on the hood, but that’s typical of a ’90s vehicle painted white. Oh, and it’s got a nice set of white-letter tires on the factory alloy wheels. It does include a soft top, but the seller didn’t include a picture of it.

So on one hand, you have a non-running truck that will take some troubleshooting work, and potentially require some expensive parts to fix. On the other hand, you have a Jeep that includes everything needed to fix it, except a massive amount of time and space. Either way, you’d end up with a useful vehicle, along with the satisfaction of having brought it back yourself. Which one interests you more?