Building a retro-modern early Jeep is a fun, yet sometimes annoying undertaking. Seeing what you’ve created with your own two hands is very rewarding when things go well. The problem is the designers of both our ’56 CJ-5 and ’98 XJ that we are merging into one never intended for anything of the sort, so sometimes things don’t exactly jibe. Oh well, this ain’t our first Jeep-building rodeo and no one who ever built a Jeep allowed a couple issues to stop them in their tracks.

It’s one of the numerous things that separates Jp magazine from the others. Unlike many of the project rigs built by our sister publications, we don’t do buildups for industry shows or one-time trail rides. Really, who in their right mind takes the torch to a brand-new $50,000 truck adds another $50,000 in parts and labor onto it, and then destroys it on the trail? Not you, that’s who! Which is why many of Jp’s staff-owned, staff-driven, staff-wheeled projects resonate so loudly with you readers.

It’s Jp’s ’01 TJ Wrangler project vehicle that we call Red. We’ve owned it since it was brand new. Since then, it’s had a mess of different suspensions, wheels, and tires. We liked the way it drove on-road, but wanted it to do better off-road. Plus, it’s an 11-year-old Jeep built 11 years ago that’s been wheeled for 11 years. That’s a lot of 11s! Lots of the parts on it were dated, so we figured why not take a chunk out of the old bank account and rebuild the suspension to do everything it currently did, but better.

This stupid Jeep has become one of the family. It’s the first vehicle Hazel ever owned that his wife actually loves. It’s got enough backseat room for his three boys and their car seats. It’ll swallow a day’s worth of beach gear or accommodate enough bikes, toys, or fishing stuff for five people. It’s a day-trip, family-fun, retro-throwback machine. Get in, unplug, hit the road, and follow the grille wherever it takes you. The only trouble with this Cherokee is that so far every component has had to be replaced. And we do mean every component.

We introduced you to our patina’d ’56 CJ-5 build in the Aug. ’11 issue (“Ground Up, Part 1: Building a Frame from Scratch”). This time we’re squaring the frame build away, including hanging our springs and steering box, and even burning in some motor mounts. We also added body mounts all around, welded on a few suspension components, and laid the body in place. Hopefully that whetted your appetite for some vintage CJ-5 building.

There are many levels to being a cheapass, but it’s okay to spend coin if you see value. Carpet stains, dents, and scratches aren’t going to affect capability, but if you’re stuck in a mud pit with a set of tires that came cheap cause one was bald, you’re gonna regret it. If you bought a Jeep for a song, then even a cheapass can stomach spending a few bucks to make it what you want it to be. Only cut corners where you won’t notice or care. Sometimes there’s no inexpensive or free way around it, so you pull out that wallet, creak it open, and dump the Benjamins to pay for it.

Sometimes a deal is too good to pass up. Well, it probably wasn’t that good of a deal. Maybe we bought this Jeep because of all of those late night dreams of wheeling an early CJ-5. Maybe it’s because it’s good karma to take a Jeep that no one else wants and bring it back from the dead. Maybe it’s because after growing up on the east coast (where rust is a rule) it’s still absolutely mind-blowing that no one in Arizona seems to see the value of original, almost-complete, un-rusted, desert-patina’d sheetmetal. Any way you justify it, building a vintage Jeep from the ground up in this economy is not a great way to make any money. Actually, it’s probably a great way to end up with a Jeep that is worth less than the sum of its parts. It’s still fun and in the end we will have a very different early CJ-5 with a reliable drivetrain, bulletproof frame, and a more modern suspension that’s ready to drive practically anywhere on- or off-road.

We did it a bit bass-ackwards. Normally when we buy a new project vehicle we regale you with tales of the search, purchase, and retrieval. But last issue we simply dove right in with the vehicle’s biggest problem—a completely fried electrical system. The new wiring harness from Z&M Jeeps is now snuggled under the 31-year-old sheetmetal and the fresh MSD ignition system makes the engine go vroom, so now we can fill in some of the gaps regarding our ’78 Cherokee Chief.

And along came a craigslist deal that seemed too good to be true: a completely rust-free ’78 Cherokee Chief with a super-clean interior for $500. Why? The ammeter went all napalm-city on the wiring harness. It’s a common occurrence in pre-’79 AMC-era FSJ pickups and SUVs. Welcome to AMC-ville, kids; a land where quality wiring doesn’t exist. Over time corrosion and vibration wreak havoc on the barely-adequate wiring and connectors. And once enough resistance builds in the ammeter, poof goes the wiring loom. Ours was good and toasted, but we forked over the cash just the same.

OK people, that's a wrap. JR was originally built up as a magazine project vehicle backin 2003. Our goal was to retain the parts of the original buildup that were still relevant, worked well, or didn't bug us and update the rest. The Jeep also received a new mission in life, trading its alter-ego Jeepspeed prerunner-status for that of a comfortable daily-driver capable of sustained travels in the outback over moderate-to-hard trails.

In Parts 2 and 3 we revitalized our suspension. In Part 2, we majorly upgraded the front axle. In Part 4, we made it a reliable and safe runner again. Now it's time to have some fun. In the past, Project JR was something of a compromise. The stiff, race-oriented tires didn't lend themselves very well to the Jeep's daily commuting duties. The spare tire strapped in the cargo area cut into the gear-carrying capacity. And the prerunner-inspired nature of its off-road use precluded running a winch or placing any additional weight up high.

When we last left my budget-built '91 MJ I had swapped everything but the kitchen sink to replace the shot, worn, and just flat hammered front end parts. While I was replacing bushings, ball joints, and tie-rods, I lifted the front end. I hadn't shown you what I'd done out back-the radiator sprang a leak, it was overheating, and it was still two-wheel-drive.

With the Freefender able to start and run, presumably reliably, I set to work on some other areas that needed attention along with some off-road-worthy improvements. Between the two free Jeeps that I started out with, I had four decent 30x9.50 tires mounted on 15x8 wheels. So I put the Uniroyal Laredo MTs mounted on Jackman wheels out back for extra traction and the BFG All-Terrains mounted on stock CJ-7 wheels up front. The front and rear wheels don't match in design or backspacing, but they're close. Hey, at least all four are white spoke-style wheels!

After reviving the transmission with B&M components and fixing the T-case with a Novak rebuild kit, my Command'oh project was technically a runner. That is, I could make it move under its own power. But not very far. And I had to sit on a milk crate to do it 'cause the seats and mounts were missing from day one. The biggest problem was the factory radiator was completely shot. Once the engine came up to temperature it spewed a geyser of scalding-hot water right onto the fixed-blade fan, which in turn, doused the driver. Nice, huh? I tried cans of radiator-stop-leak products, eggs, sawdust, and all sorts of home remedies to stem the radiator leak, but to no avail. Not that it mattered much, because with the bent front springs and permanently-inverted front shackles, this vehicle wasn't doing any road trips soon. Oh, did I mention that my battery tray was a piece of plywood laid across the valve cover to the fender? I couldn't close the hood when it had a battery in it. Butch-city.

Pencils down in three, two, one, finish! That's right. It's time for the staffers to wrap up their sh!%box buildups and make ready for the actual derby day. What lies in store for these piles of Jeep dung saved from a cocoon of neglect, apathy, and exposure to the elements? Have they been resurrected only to get relegated once again to the realm of abused and broken-down Jeepdom? Well, yeah, eventually. But between then and now we'll wring all the fun out of 'em that's humanly possible. And we'll start it with the Sh!%box Derby, which you'll read about next month.

The clock is ticking and the buildups have begun.

I wedged a filing cabinet key into the ignition and with some wiggling and jiggling, it clicked the tumblers. I had already installed the 33x10.50R15 BFG Baja T/A tires and 15x8 American Racing wheels from Project JR, drained out the engine pudding, spun on a fresh oil filter, and topped the crankcase with new 15W-40 diesel oil. A borrowed battery was slung on the rotten tray and the engine laboriously cranked over. It didn't fire, so I poured a little 40:1 two-stroke pre-mix (hey, it's all I had) down the carb throat. Nothing. Out came the multi-meter, which told me the factory coil was toast, as were a few plug wires. My parts shed puked up an old coil and some spare wires into the little 304 and it sputtered to life. The fuel pump couldn't pull the rancid fuel up from the tank, but otherwise it looked like the engine was a keeper and warranted further investigation.

As many longtime Jp readers may remember, our little '99 XJ project vehicle used to run a 4.6L stroker with all the goodies. It lived above the front axle for 20,000-25,000 miles. Then one day several years ago for no apparent reason the engine lost all compression in the number-six cylinder. This author didn't have time in his crazy-hectic schedule to do a post-mortem and, since the Cherokee served as a primary commuter and daily-driver it needed to get fixed fast. We dropped the Jeep off at Jeeps-R-Us in Laguna Niguel, California, where owner Larie Tales and his topflight crew of mechanics swapped out our popped stroker and installed the factory 4.0L in no time flat. But by then our big bosses kinda dropped the ball on the registration and the Jeep languished in our company parking lot. It was pilfered of parts and collected dust for the next several years.

After taking inventory of both free CJ-2A Jeeps I went to work making one of them a runner and cutting up the remnants of the other. The previous owner of Jeep number one said it ran, so I gave it the once-over to see why it wouldn't run now. It was missing a battery, part of the air cleaner was gone (I found it in the tool box under the passenger seat), the fuel tank and mechanical fuel pump looked as though they had been bypassed and replaced with a hokey gravity-feed tank (which was no longer on the Jeep), and the wiring was just altogether questionable.

After the seller swiped a battery from his other languishing truck, my MJ fired right up, idled nicely, and ran and drove. With the only vehicle in the Sh!%box lineup that actually started, much less ran when purchased, you'd think I'd have it made. Yeah, me too.

If one free Jeep is good, two free Jeeps must be even better. Or so I thought.

I owe ownership of this new-to-me Comanche to having broken my leg in early 2010. While laid up with my leg in a cast and snorting painkillers, I did what any self-respecting Jeep owner would do-I searched online for that next perfect Jeep.

Like most of my Jeep purchases, this one sprouted from that cursed entity known as Craigslist. I had been searching for a long-wheelbase CJ-6, '67-'71 Jeepster, or even a CJ-8 to build into a family wheeler. Then this stupid ad crossed my path for a non-running '73 Commando with a clear title located in Boulevard, California. The seller basically just wanted it off his property, and for $350, I couldn't argue the asking price. Now there's no secret about my disdain for '72-'73 bullnose Commandos. I think they're one of the ugliest affronts to early Jeepdom ever to roll off a Toledo assembly line. But it was a cheap Jeep and a very cheap pre-smog Jeep title. I figured at the very least I could use the frame and title to build up a family wheeler, sell the wheels, axles, steering, and other odds and ends to more than recoup my investment, and send the rest of the hideous Commando to the scrapper where it belonged.

We're really cranking along on our '99 XJ project revamp. You may recall that in Part I we ditched the old-school long-arm suspension in favor of a Poly Performance three-link long-arm with a new track bar setup. In Part II we built up a new front Currie F9 9-inch with a high-pinion centersection and Reid Racing knuckles, which allowed old-style Dana 44 outers. Now here's the front axle installation and suspension wrap-up that we promised you last time around.

Most readers are all hot and bothered over the fact that we finally broke our '99 XJ out of mothballs and are giving it a much-needed refurbishment. Last month we showed you the installation of the new Poly Performance three-link front suspension and promised to wrap it all up in this issue with some new front coils and upgraded rear spring perches. Well, we got a little sidetracked and instead decided to bring you the buildup of our new front axle. We'll put the wraps on the suspension next issue-we promise!