There are few regrets I can point to in life when it comes to cars. I’ve been pretty fortunate. But selling this is one of them. I bought it off some guy in a grocery store parking lot at the base of Mt Baldy, California. He drove up with a For Sale sign in the window. A rugged, skinny old man that looked like he split his own wood hopped out and was taken back by some young, clean cut, whipper snapper walking up excited about the rig. “I’ll buy it,” I said. Maybe he didn’t believe me. I don’t think my friend Jay, who was with me, really did either. It took a little talking, some convincing that I was serious. I think I may have offered PayPal which he didn’t use or to give him the $80 bucks in my wallet to hold it. But he was old school and at this point, he took my word for it. I met him later at his house and bought it.
In the late 90s, early 00s, we had a cabin in the woods up in Baldy at about 6,500 feet. I was excited to take it off-roading on the trails nearby. It was legendary for that. Not so legendary on hour-long freeway rides to the mountain but it would still poke along at 70-75mph. Mostly because this 1974 Toyota Land Cruiser FJ40 had a 2F motor swap for more power. The 2F straight six, 4.2 liter was good for roughly 130hp and 200 ft-lb of torque vs the 1F which was 3.9 liter with slightly less power. When I researched the numbers for this post, I was surprised how similar they were but more power is more better. All this coupled to a 4-speed gear box with manual locking hubs.
I came across this picture when I was looking for some others in my memory tote. Specifically, I was looking for shots taken back in the early 90s of my dad’s 944. We, Ern and I, drove it to downtown Detroit and right through the front door of Grand Central Station. If you know anything about Detroit, it wasn’t the most comfortable place to be driving a shiny red Porsche. Slowly creeping up to the train station to shimmy past barricades, that were supposed to be blocking the entrance, clenched up the butt cheeks a bit more. Were we heading into a drug den? A bunch of hooligans tagging walls? Metal or broken glass on the floor that could puncture a tire and leave us stranded? Were cops going to show up to bust us? See the B&W photos at Groosh.com. We made it out that day and drove home unscathed. Like, really, what was going to happen?
As for this FJ rock driveway photo at our cabin, it was taken with an old school camera, not a cell phone. A film camera at that, not even digital. I scanned the photo about 30 minutes before I started writing this post. I loved this rig. The baby blue chalky paint, the wagon-white steel-wheels driven by a rugged never-say-die drive train. The interior was filled with road noise, wind buffeting from everywhere, feet air breezes and exhaust notes. Behind that big old steering wheel with one inch of side-to-side play were sheepskin seat covers comprising a soothing place to navigate. Compared to everything I’ve owned, it was understated, simple, reliable and fun. Kinda like a Miata for off-road. I really should try to find another one.
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