I love overachievers in the world of cars much more than in person, hence my unbridled enthusiasm when I happened across Mercedes’ six-wheeled monster the G63 AMG and Ghe-O’s indomitable Rescue. Something about these trucks, for their rugged ability to tackle literally any terrain imaginable truly epitomizes the colloquial definition of the term1, awakens a visceral desire to pack my backpack and spend a long weekend trekking through uninhabited back country with nothing but my thoughts to keep my company; they ignite within me a base midwestern American desire to go outside and spend time in nature. Unsurprisingly, then, Filson’s Jeep 4x4 was no exception. My only hesitation in pushing its limits on a narrow mountain trail would be that I tarnish its carefully crafted exterior and spoil the bespoke interior; once I got past that though, I have no doubt it could handle anything I decided to throw at it.
I don’t mean to go on a rant, but as a brief aside I do not understand the appeal of such small trucks. I can see the place of cars, vans, SUVs, and F-150-esq trucks in the jobs consumers hire vehicles to do, but when it comes to these small “trucks” I am at a loss. Granted, their perpetuated existence indicates continued demand for such a form factor, but I can’t for the life of my understand its appeal. Perhaps this is the naivety of youth and machismo of a nineteen-year-old speaking, but if I had the need for a flat bed and an additional four miles to each gallon without the bulk of an F-150 or above — the only reasons I could see someone purchasing one of these vehicles — I would swallow my second and third criteria and buy a Ford F-series anyways.
As opposed to the dinky Ford Rangers that have somehow managed to subsume the moniker.↩