2018 Wrangler Photos

Sport 2dr 4x4
2018 Jeep Wrangler

I've never delayed big adventure long enough to fill a bucket. But I do have a bucket item that dates to 1992: drive from Deadhorse, Alaska, to Tierra del Fuego, Argentina. Twenty-six years later, it's time. But first, I needed a vehicle. And a Jeep Wrangler was not my first choice. Growing up as a kid in the Midwest, I loved Jeeps. But around 10 years ago I went on a camping trip to Death Valley with a colleague, testing the early JK Wrangler against the competition. By the end of it, I couldn't justify the ergonomic and physical punishment for the admittedly massive capability. So two years ago, I bought a 1994 Toyota Land Cruiser project truck to make the journey. I paid too much, and the Cruiser revealed itself to be not a garage project, but the Manhattan Project. I took this as a good omen. Adventure begins in the deep end, so why wait to get there? During a break from discovering enough gremlins to reboot the movie franchise, I had dinner with Jeep's West Coast PR guy. I mentioned my plans for a six-month overlanding trek to Alaska. He said, "You know, we've got a new Wrangler coming out — that might be a good test of the chassis." My outside voice said, "That would be interesting." My inside voice said, "Hmmm." Anything's possible after 10 years, right? I might like it. Might. Many plans have gone awry on the way to this moment. It's taken more than a year to lock in a start date, because Jeep couldn't spare a Wrangler Rubicon. Everyone else in America keeps buying them. A suitable Wrangler was found eventually, but now the deed had to be done in three months, not six. What was going to be a comfortably-paced, backwoods roll up to Alaska and back has turned into the Rubicon Overland Cannonball. I know 14 weeks is plenty of time to drive to the Arctic and back. (Tierra del Fuego is officially off the itinerary.) However, the point of this trip is to fit in as much dirt, as many bucket-list trails, and all the wild America possible. That means my route's about 14,000 convoluted miles of criss-crossing the country in all the cardinal directions. And that's assuming everything goes to plan. Until last week, I was doing this trip with a friend from college who lives in Marietta, Georgia. He was the photo/video guy. Then he had a medical emergency, so the only trip he's taking is to the OR and rehab. Now I'm going by myself, and I think it's important to point out that I have no idea what I'm doing. That isn't modesty, that's truth: zero clue. I've done plenty of off-roading and camping. I've only been overlanding once, four years ago, and I've never been in charge of an overlanding expedition. So I hopped into a Challenger Hellcat and zipped from Los Angeles to Flagstaff, Arizona. There, the fabulous Nena Barlowe, who runs …
Full Review
I've never delayed big adventure long enough to fill a bucket. But I do have a bucket item that dates to 1992: drive from Deadhorse, Alaska, to Tierra del Fuego, Argentina. Twenty-six years later, it's time. But first, I needed a vehicle. And a Jeep Wrangler was not my first choice. Growing up as a kid in the Midwest, I loved Jeeps. But around 10 years ago I went on a camping trip to Death Valley with a colleague, testing the early JK Wrangler against the competition. By the end of it, I couldn't justify the ergonomic and physical punishment for the admittedly massive capability. So two years ago, I bought a 1994 Toyota Land Cruiser project truck to make the journey. I paid too much, and the Cruiser revealed itself to be not a garage project, but the Manhattan Project. I took this as a good omen. Adventure begins in the deep end, so why wait to get there? During a break from discovering enough gremlins to reboot the movie franchise, I had dinner with Jeep's West Coast PR guy. I mentioned my plans for a six-month overlanding trek to Alaska. He said, "You know, we've got a new Wrangler coming out — that might be a good test of the chassis." My outside voice said, "That would be interesting." My inside voice said, "Hmmm." Anything's possible after 10 years, right? I might like it. Might. Many plans have gone awry on the way to this moment. It's taken more than a year to lock in a start date, because Jeep couldn't spare a Wrangler Rubicon. Everyone else in America keeps buying them. A suitable Wrangler was found eventually, but now the deed had to be done in three months, not six. What was going to be a comfortably-paced, backwoods roll up to Alaska and back has turned into the Rubicon Overland Cannonball. I know 14 weeks is plenty of time to drive to the Arctic and back. (Tierra del Fuego is officially off the itinerary.) However, the point of this trip is to fit in as much dirt, as many bucket-list trails, and all the wild America possible. That means my route's about 14,000 convoluted miles of criss-crossing the country in all the cardinal directions. And that's assuming everything goes to plan. Until last week, I was doing this trip with a friend from college who lives in Marietta, Georgia. He was the photo/video guy. Then he had a medical emergency, so the only trip he's taking is to the OR and rehab. Now I'm going by myself, and I think it's important to point out that I have no idea what I'm doing. That isn't modesty, that's truth: zero clue. I've done plenty of off-roading and camping. I've only been overlanding once, four years ago, and I've never been in charge of an overlanding expedition. So I hopped into a Challenger Hellcat and zipped from Los Angeles to Flagstaff, Arizona. There, the fabulous Nena Barlowe, who runs …
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Retail Price

$27,945 MSRP / Window Sticker Price

Smart Buy Price

$1,132 Nat'l avg. savings off MSRP
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Engine 3.6LV-6
MPG 17 City / 25 Hwy
Seating 4 Passengers
Transmission 6-spd man w/OD
Power 285 @ 6400 rpm
Drivetrain four-wheel
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