I get irritated even thinking about it and often wish I could simply erase May 5, 2000, from my mind. I knew better than to take an unproven Jeep over 24 hours of Johnson Valley rocks. The Jeep in question belonged to my then-boss, Cole Quinnell, and it was the '46 CJ-2A, also known as the 14-Day Flattie. He was going on vacation in Hawaii that week, so it was up to me to take Satan-Jeep on ARB's 24-Hours on The Hammers charity event. It was - and still is - my worst trail disaster ever.
Had it been my own flatfender, it wouldn't have been a problem. I knew every nut, bolt, and weld that might have failed. But hopping into Cole's flattie for this event was like hopping on board the first hang glider made of bricks and dynamite. I helped build the Jeep, and at the time, figured how bad could it be? Besides, it was for charity.
Unfortunately, Cole's ingenious build theme was to recreate the look of an abandoned vehicle. Interestingly, the theme grew on me. The more I drove it, the more I felt like abandoning it. The Jeep was uncomfortable to drive. The steering wheel felt like it came out of a dump truck, and the seats were about as comfortable as something you might find in a kindergarten classroom. There wasn't a single gauge, switch, or piece of wiring in the dash, just a few empty switch and gauge holes. Instead, every piece of wiring was stuffed in the toolbox under the preschool passenger seat. Simply for inconsistent complexity, Cole's Jeep had an ARB Air Locker in the front. I knew this. However, I did not know the ARB compressor switch was hidden in the tangle of wires in said toolbox. I didn't figure this out until after bursting several neck veins while yelling at my spotter (my brother) who was busy learning how to use a winch for the first time.
Anyway, if a flatfender is built in 14 days you'd think it would be a good idea to take at least half that time to work out all the bugs before putting it to real trails or a 24-hour event. Somebody figured a few hours was plenty and also found out that it overheated easily but did nothing to fix it.
Twenty-four hours is a long time to stay awake. Especially when we ran into several problems that should have led us back to the trailer before the first hour was up. The carburetor worked OK, but sloshing fuel stalled the engine often. Of course, it was summer so the desert rocks were nearly melting and so was Cole's V-8. The starter eventually became heat-soaked and would barely turn over. So we winched to a flat area where the carb wouldn't give us trouble, pretty much killing the battery (this was only the beginning of the charging/starting problems that plagued us throughout the entire event). Once it cooled, the Jeep started again. We eventually finished the first of seven trails. The number-two trail was fairly uneventful, with the exception of sitting on pins and needles trying to keep the overheating Jeep from stalling.
On the way to the third trail, we tore a hole the size of my fist in the sidewall of a tire and had to put on the spare. We chucked the wasted tire and wheel in the bushes for pick up later.
About a quarter of the way up Sledgehammer, the front driveshaft came apart. Cole's Jeep had a shackle reversal and a short-slip driveshaft - a huge no-no for a spring-over. I filed the splines back into shape and got it back together so we could finish out the trail.
We then went over to Wrecking Ball and got about halfway up when the drivetrain fuse in Cole's Jeep decided to pop. Apparently, 35-inch tires, 380hp, an SM420, Dana 60 axles, and a smallish Spicer 18 rear output don't go together. I wish someone would have told Cole. It was still daylight out, so I wasn't all that worried at the time because I figured we could simply winch up the remaining hard parts of the trail. I was wrong. Five feet later, the steering box fell right off of the frame.
My brother and I spent the rest of the night with Shawn and Dani Gregory from Tuffy Security trying to weld the steering box back into place with a broken trail welder. It was about as effective as welding with those sparklers that come in Fourth of July fireworks kits.
By daybreak we had given up on welding it, had the Jeep turned around, and were simply bouncing like a pinball (without steering) off of the rocks back to the trailhead. Eventually, Pat Gremillion of Premier Power Welder drove up with his Bronco and burned in one of Cole's wrenches and a few scraps of steel to support the steering box, and he towed us back to camp a little less than 24 hours after we started.
I don't really have any special message that hits home, but if Cole wants you to drive his Jeep while he's in Hawaii, you might want to decline.- John Cappa