A couple of months ago I posed a question on my @ChristianHazel1 Twitter account. Yeah, I have a Twitter account. Stop laughing…my boss made me. Anyway, I asked “If your Jeep wore pants, what kind would they be?” The responses ranged from the hilarious to extremely clever. A couple of my favorites were “ragged and oil stained,” “Wranglers,” and “diapers...it leaks like hell, always needs something to eat, and won’t take care of itself.” But in almost every case, the comedy, intelligence, and plain ol’ down-to-earth spirit of the replies underscored what I already knew: At the end of the day, Jeepers are primarily good people with good values and fundamentally aren’t too different from each other.
I bet that if I had posed the same question to Hummer owners I would’ve gotten answers like “expensive ones,” or “a designer brand that’s better than yours.” Range Rover guys would probably answer “really, really expensive ones,” or “ones with more useless pockets than yours...that are really, really expensive.” BMW X5 people would simply answer “Tight ones…you can see my junk, right? ’Cause that’s what I’m going for.” And Mercedes G-wagon folks…well, I think in this country their crowd is more apt to wear skirts so the question probably wouldn’t be applicable. But you get my point. I’m not here to bash devotees of other brands. Well, at least not more than I just did.
The Jeep-in-pants thing was just one of the many random, obtuse thoughts that pass between my ears numerous times on any given day. I usually try to ignore most of my brain’s internal white noise of this type, but the pants thing seemed uniquely analogous to that four-letter word from which we all suffer: Jeep. I was originally going to go off on a tangent exploring how some Jeeps I see are the equivalent of a dude in Daisy Duke shorty-shorts cut so high the pockets hang out of the bottoms. Or maybe something about other Jeeps being the automotive equivalent of assless leather cowboy chaps or retro hip-hugger Levis 501s. But ultimately there’s a larger truth behind this the Jeep/pants thing. At least in our seven-slat world, the kind of Jeep you drive and the kind of pants you regularly wear parallel your style, personality, and character. With brands like Hummer and Range Rover the parallel seems only to highlight your tax bracket.
Person who works with their hands? Dickies or Carhartt work pants. Person who wrenches on their own stuff? Oil-stained overalls or maybe some tattered jeans with holes in the knees. Person who wheels their Jeep every chance they get? Pair of short or long cargo pants. Person with a good white-collar job? Pair of clean khakis or maybe some newer jeans. The point is all of these pants fit equally well atop the driver seat of a Wrangler or Cherokee or even vintage CJ. That’s not necessarily the case with those other brands I made fun of.
And to this end, Jeeps are something of a melting pot with regard to what archetype their owners fit. You’re just as likely to run into a $250,000-per-year executive in a Jeep as you are a $15,000-per-year student. You can’t pigeonhole exactly what type of pants you’ll find a Jeep owner wearing, but one thing is invariably certain—they’ll put ’em on one leg at a time. ’Cause Jeep people are real people. But as Jp’s Feature Editor Verne Simons points out, please don’t actually make pants for your Jeep. It would look bad, and they’d probably get all caught up in the driveshafts or tires.