Earlier today we had a full-CC treatment of this 1948 Jeep MB. So, what is it like to drive? Well, as my grandma used to say, it’s just like this. . . .
First, you get in. There is no door handle, no door, no roof and no windows in your way, so it should be easy, right? Sort of. Left foot on the outside step while holding onto that sturdy black grab handle that so cleverly doubles as a steering wheel. Then thread your right leg between the seat and the big wheel and sit on down onto the coarse canvas upholstery.
Next, we start her up. The key is on the left, so clutch down and turn and . . . nothing. Bill helpfully suggests to the stupid kid behind the wheel that there is a starter button up high and to the right on the floor. “Well, of course there is”, I think to myself. Nothing in 1948 started with the key, so why wouldn’t there be starter switch somewhere else? But now that we have the hang of the basics and the key is turned to “on”, I put my right shoe onto the starter button. I expect a few labored groans from an old six volt starter motor (as I used to experience on my ’29 Ford Model A) but before I hear anything, the little Willys Go-Devil four fires and reports for duty. What looks to be twelve volts of juice into a six volt starter does speed things along. Still, I am not sure I have ever seen a vehicle come to life so quickly on a cold start. No wonder we won a war with these things.
The shift lever has a very short throw and is all business. The idle is a little high, so all that is necessary to back it out of its home is to let the clutch out. I am used to backing with mirrors, but there is no need here with a 360 degree field of view. Bill lives on a county road that sees a decent amount of traffic, so it is best to wait until the coast is very clear, then off we go.
The shift lever’s throw is so short that you wonder if you have really gotten it into second, but the continued acceleration says “yes”. Then into third, and we are really cruising. The first thing I notice is that the gear spacing is different from what I am used to. Most American three speeds of my experience have first and second spaced closely, then a big hole between second and third. This box does not feel like that, in that the ratios seem much more evenly spaced. I notice the other two levers on the floor (one to engage 4 wheel drive and the other to switch between high and low ranges) but decide that four wheelin’ might go beyond the scope of Bill’s generous invitation.
Next thing is to get away from traffic. No doors and no seatbelts can be a little disconcerting to modern sensibilities, and so is no turn signals. Fortunately, I remember how to signal a left turn with my arm as I head for the brakes to slow down. Bad words form in my mind as I wonder if the really hard brake pedal is actually doing anything, and as I scold myself for not testing them first. Oh well, at least my doctor is sitting next to me if things go bad. But the binders do, in fact, seem to be working. I remember my Model A’s mechanical brakes as being more effective than these hydraulics, but it is also possible that this particular set is not quite right from lack of use. Or, they could just suck. I will leave it to some of the older readers with military backgrounds to help us out here.
Once onto a quiet country road with nothing but cornfields around, this Jeep is in its element. The dash placard warns us not to exceed 60 mph. I possess at least some sanity, so this will not be an issue – 30 mph seems like plenty to me. It is not hard to imagine a Jeep just like this traversing the countryside during wartime. If someone were shooting at us, there would not be much to stop incoming projectiles. But nobody is shooting, and we just get to listen to the comforting drone of the famous Go-Devil flathead and the whine of the gears as we sail along at a pace that feels comfortable.
The thick plate-steel everywhere you look and touch makes for a very rigid structure. The Jeep bounces and something squeaks, but it does so tightly, without a hint of flex in its structure. I also notice that these were not designed for tall people. I am under six feet and averagely proportioned, but those pedals are really close. The throttle on this particular unit is a mite sticky, and either could use a stronger return spring or maybe just a little lubrication and use. It will come down to a normal idle with a quick goose, but otherwise, it makes for a handy cruise control out in the country.
Not knowing how we are fixed on fuel or how long our host expects us to be gone, I decide that the T intersection that we are approaching is a good place to turn around. Steering effort is not bad for a manual setup, and the ratio is pretty quick. The short wheelbase gives this Jeep a very tight turning circle and we are headed the opposite direction in short order.
After pulling over for some pictures, it is time for Doc to take a turn. He was a touch rusty on his shifting technique, but got underway quickly enough. It was then that I realized how foreign something like this must be to someone younger than me. As a kid I spent some time driving a prewar John Deere Model B tractor that came from my stepmom’s Uncle Cal. A three speed stick has been second nature to me for a long time, but is as common as a party line telephone or an old fashioned icebox today. Doc did well to pick it up as quickly as he did.
I also realized that life is different as a passenger in one of these without that big steering wheel to hang onto. Fortunately, the engineers saw fit to provide we passengers with a solid grab handle on the outside at butt level. Not that it would do much if the going got really rough, but it was a comfort nonetheless. That handle is like everything else on this Jeep – thick, solid, and designed in such a way that you would have no hesitation trusting that it would hold in case of an emergency.
I am given the wheel for the last stretch on the busier road, and back we go. I finally make the connection that the shifter feels exactly like the one on Cal’s old John Deere. A quick turn around to back it into the building and all too soon the drive is over. As I turn the key off and the engine goes silent, I sit there for a minute and take in the unique aura of an America from long ago, wondering whether that America still exists today. This Jeep was made for young men who grew up in hard times and were not afraid of dangerous work. This Jeep reminds me how soft we younger guys are. Hush you, – Bill’s presence allows me to classify myself as one of the younger guys on this particular day.
There is no way I would want one of these as a daily driver in 2017. But then I live in the inner suburbs of a larger city, and that environment is about as far as one can get from the conditions which the Jeep MB was designed to tackle. This is because the MB is really a small tractor, but one that seats four and has better road speed. However, if someone told me that I was going to a remote place where the roads were few, where I would be on my own for repairs and where I would have to trust my vehicle to be the one machine I had to rely on, I don’t think I could do better than one of these. I expect there might still be a few old GIs out there who would agree.
This would make an awesome deterrent to car theft, a car with manual shifting gearbox with a clutch pedal and push button start.
I was watching the supplements on my DVD set of “Band of Brothers” where one of the 30 something actors was talking about trying to drive one of the vintage Jeeps used in the series. Same experience as your first try. Can’t get the thing to start and has no clue why. Then Dale Dye, who was a technical advisor on the project and in charge of training the actors, jumped in, wound it up and drove away without a moment’s problem.
Great opportunity to drive that!
What isn’t great is the plastic fuel filter on the pressurized line to the carb, near the exhaust manifold. Use a metal one or move it to the suction side of the pump.
I used to work with some older guys in my dad’s garage who were really into Jeeps of this vintage. I am talking about the late 60’s and early 70’s. The first thing that they would upgrade would be the brakes. Front discs on an old Jeep makes them stop so much better. They would then think about an engine transplant; usually a V-6 of some sort. That’s about all they would do, now that I think about it. They didn’t care a bit about how the body looked.
Thanks for taking us along; I was right there with you…
From the maximum speeds per gear as on the plate on the dash, (24, 41, 60) it would appear that the ratios are nicely spaced.
Oh, so that was *you* making those “Jeep sounds.” 🙂
What an amazing experience!
Other than the three-speed and a key on the left, I’m afraid I fall into the category you mentioned about having no frame of reference.
I need to ask Grandpa Albert if he ever drove a Jeep – some deuce-and-a-halfs, yes, but I’m not sure about this.
My grandfather had one of these for all-purpose transportation around his thousand-acre spread. I never drove it, but my teenage cousin did–long before he was eligible for a drivers’ license. I did ride in it, as did dozens of my other cousins. We have a great photo of Grandpa at the wheel, five grandkids and a dog on board. I don’t know whether Grandpa ever did any maintenance on the thing, but it always started right up and it seemed most at home off the paved roads. I have no idea what became of it; most likely it ended up in Grandpa’s vehicle graveyard, beside his old Divco milk-delivery truck. The whole area has long since been swallowed by suburbia. Only the great memories remain.
In the official Army Trials, the Willy’s GP hit 74 mph, vs 64 for the Bantam and only 59 for the Ford model.
No wonder we won the war with bravery of that caliber on our side.
A Leatherman multi-tool is useful in a pinch, but in reality it’s not nearly as good as a set of individual tools.
Similarly, this Jeep is designed to do one thing, and one thing only. That is, to traverse rough terrain simply and efficiently. It does that one thing very, very well, but it does nothing else very well at all.
Thank you for describing this as “really a small tractor”. I’ve observed the same similarities with the old open CJ’s and vintage farm equipment. Unfortunately, precious few people have driven either one these days so the analogy is lost on most.
Unfortunately, precious few people have driven either one these days so the analogy is lost on most.
Not me. Driving my Grandfather’s 50s vintage Cornbinder: set hand throttle, pull out an unmarked ring on the engine cover to set the choke, pull a knob out to turn on the ignition, then pull the other unmarked ring on the engine cover to engage the starter. Floor mounted 3 speed trans, again with short, direct throws. I think the shift pattern was even the same as the Jeep’s.
What model “Cornbinder”? I had a lot of (bouncing) seat time on 50s Farmalls, but that doesn’t sound like the drill I went through. 3 speed? Hmmm.
Are you talking tractor or truck?
What model “Cornbinder”?
A Farmall Cub. Gramps had a 4 acre combination garden and orchard to play farmer on when he wasn’t wrenching on trucks at his day job.
His tractor was identical to this one: the taller frame, but the orchard style with the exhaust running under the frame, instead of sticking up through the engine cover, with under frame and rear hydraulics and a PTO.
Here’s a closeup I took of an earlier Cub at the Gilmore’s tractor show last summer. Small lever with the sawtooth quadrant on the steering column is the throttle. Larger lever on the quadrant with the stops is the hydraulic control. The two rings coming out of the engine cover: choke and starter, but I forget which is which. Knob to the right of the ammeter is the headlight switch and the button between and below the ammeter and headlight switch is the ignition switch.
I finally got around to going to the Gilmore’s tractor and engine show last year after years of skipping it. My timing appears to have been excellent as they don’t have the tractor show on their schedule this year, but a truck show instead.
Aha! A Cub. That explains it. I drove the big boys: H, M, and C. They did have a pull ring on the end of the choke lever, but the starter was a big button you hit. And they all had 5 speed transmissions.
I drove a row crop version a few times basically just a frame engine and wheels it had aeroplane tyres on the back so not much traction which added to the fun.
That’s a lot of little levers! The H and M procedure was really pretty simple: give it a little gas, pull out the choke if it was cool, turn the light switch on the box with the ammeter one click, MAKE SURE YOU ARE OUT OF GEAR, and hit the starter button (also on the little box). They were very easy starters, usually needed little if any choke. And a “five speed”-or four gears and then one way too high. Unless you were a kid, and then fifth was almost fast enough.
My grandpa had a Farmall Cub for the small jobs and a 49 Case for the big stuff. i was too little to drive either. I sat on the hood. He also had a 48? Chevy pickup that had starter button on floor. So I’m familiar with all these even though I never got to drive. I did get to ride a lot though.
The “Power Wagon” was named that because it, too, was marketed as basically a streetable tractor/powerplant.
There were a number of farm implements available for the Jeep, too.
Ya beat me to it Ed. I’ve have some old Popular Mechanics issues (47-48) that did a feature on this model Jeep and implements. It even had a live PTO on the rear. I seem to recall even a conversion kit was offered if you wanted to convert your war surplus Jeep.
Thanks for the great story JP. Good thing you took Doc and Bill up on that offer when you did. Judging by that corn and surrounding fields you were well into harvest. Not to many days left for cruising around in shirt sleeves in a open Jeep.
Very enjoyable. I have never driven an MB but spent some time in a MUTT (M-151) – similar experience – except with the independent suspension you always had to corner very slowly…
sat in the passenger side once expecting a ride. driver could not get it started and we traced the problem to an uncharged battery. not having a fresh battery or a way to charge the one that was there we said adios.
i wanted the ride – heck i really wanted to drive the old thing but you are correct at 6’3″ and a size 15 foot there is no room in one of these for the non-short.
Having driven a pre-war Allis-Chalmers tractor on my high-school friend’s parent’s farm, I can think of something else modern motorists haven’t experienced.
Starting the engine with a crank!
Happy Motoring, Mark
Starting the engine with a crank!
You have one on me. Gramp’s Cornbinder had a place for a crank, and he had a crank, but the 6V battery always did the trick when I was driving.
My friend’s parents had a newer Farmall tractor, and they weren’t going to spring for a new battery for the old Allis. So If we wanted to ride, we had to crank!
Happy Motoring, Mark
A crank. How modern. 🙂 The John Deere B started by spinning the flywheel. My favorite part was the way it blew the Donald Duck orange juice can from the exhaust stack when it fired.
That’s just like the first tractor I ever drove, but I didn’t start it. 🙂
He’s got a good one if it fires like that on the first turn. Note how you crank the flywheel until you get resistance, and then turn over-that way you are pulling through the top of the compression cycle, and if the spark plug fires you are most likely to get a good pop. (Like I am some expert, I finally learned how to do this last summer.) If your computer has a good speaker, you can also hear the clack-clack-clack of the magneto. B’s of this vintage are like fun little toys and quite easy to turn over, as compared with the A’s and G’s. Even with compression release (“Psssh!”), on a cool day the latter are a good workout for your arms, shoulders, and vocabulary.
My 1968 Peugeot 404 still had an emergency hand crank. And I used it a number of times just to show it off. That was the quickest-starting car I ever had, and it even with the crank I was almost guaranteed a start on the first pull.
My Hillman has a crank handle in the toolkit and it works.
The rusty $50 ’62 Hillman Super-Minx convertible I got in 1974 had a pass through opening under the radiator to the engine and the special drive-nut on the engine pulley. Also, someone had scrawled the nick-name “Churchill’s Chariot’ on the underside of the ‘bonnet’.
Sadly, the crank-handle was long gone when I got that car.
Happy Motoring, Mark
See the large hole in the front bumper of the Jeep, just slightly to the driver’s side of center? That’s where the removable hand crank goes, if you have a crank. The crank pulley on the engine is fitted to accept the hand crank. All early military and civilian Jeeps had that feature.
So it’s nothing like your Miata? 🙂 That was great, thanks for the video as well as the narrative walking us through it. One of the truly historic vehicles, not everyone gets that chance (these days I mean, I suppose plenty got the chance back in the day, whether of their own free will or otherwise).
Excellent article and film. A real holiday treat.
“However, if someone told me that I was going to a remote place where the roads were few…”
So true. Relatives of mine live in a rural part of NW Missouri, and they have a 1995 Wrangler as their primary car. Their Jeep is stripped down — no back seat, no power steering, no a/c, etc… certainly plusher than a 1948 MB, but it’s as close as one could get from any near-modern vehicle.
It’s the perfect car for where they live, which happens to be more than a mile from a paved road. Once a year or so I get to drive it — and it’s easy to envision that you’re living several decades earlier when driving that Jeep. The heritage between their Wrangler and the WWII Jeeps is, obviously, rather apparent.
This was a great pair of articles — thanks for the insights!
Great description, the only thing missing was how it smelled!
Your comment on the ease of starting rang a bell, as my 1950 Ford 8N can sit in the shed for a couple months over the winter and will usually fire up on the second or third revolution, so long as I hold the choke “just right” (easy to flood it when it’s cold). It’s still on 6V, but it’s a low-compression engine, so it really doesn’t take that much to get it going.
That Jeep brings back a few memories. I had a co-worker at Keebler in Mass. about 40 years ago named Craig Morrill who had a ’48 Willys Jeep with the solid rubber tires, ignition on the left and all that. He didn’t seem too surprised that I knew how to get it going, but I knew about the starter button and my first car eight years earlier was a three-on-the floor so that was easy. The shifter though was just as described – reminded me more of my granddad’s old Fordson farm tractor than anything made for the road. Talk about short throw!
He lived out in Littleton and we’d go fishing in that Jeep. Went darned near anywhere.
We had a’48 on the farm growing up and that’s what I learned to drive with. The little flathead gave out in about 1971 so we acquired a OHV engine from a Jeepster and put that in. It bolted right up except we had to cut out the hood for the air intake. There weren’t too many places this thing would not go.
Mark
Ok, I’m jealous. And horrified by the openness of the cabin. But still jealous.
When I lived on a Dairy Farm in New Hampshire in the mid 1960’s, we got a 1952 M38A1 Jeep in VGC and used it a lot ~ no top so chilly in January but it went anywhere, any time .
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We also had two Johnny – Poppers, a ’35 and a ’37, one ‘A’ Model and one ‘B’ Model .
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We had and used the compression reliefs ~ always fun to see jets of flame coming out the cylinder head .
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Hand started too, just like the video but usually started much faster .
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-Nate
Used to get around in a 56 SWB Landrover no top upper doors off and the windscreen folded flat and a Vauxhall six in place of the feeble 1600cc four very open experience but unlike this Jeep quite fast with the six cylinder motor, no seatbelts either so you hang on, it did have a rollbar if things really went wrong but that only saved the car not the occupants very much like an overpowered tractor.