Ever since I was a little kid, I have loved cars. Sure, I had a cool Lionel electric train set and even fancied building some random model airplane kits from time to time; but, when it came right down to it, CARS was where it was at for me. I lived and breathed them. Tinker Toys always seemed to lack enough detail to hold my interest. Hot Wheels and Matchbox cars were my strongest vice. Each one was different and intriguing in its own way and special for its own reasons.
Fast forward a handful of decades and a couple hundred car shows later; it’s seemingly impossible to see something automotive that really ignites any excitement anymore. My enjoyment of all things automotive has become more sensory, certainly when automotive design overall has become, in my opinion, somewhat mundane. It takes something visually fantastic, mechanically profound or some sensational sound to attract my gaze and steel my attention.
I think that’s why I like Jeeps so much. They all have similar visual appeal, so much that the Jeep community embraces a two-letter abbreviation to reference their particular model from a vast seventy-seven year span. From a JK to a TJ or CJ, it takes a species specialist to tell the difference between them at times. It’s truly evolved to the point where it’s all about the driving experience for me. Like the feel of the breezes that surround you as you drive an open-air Jeep or maybe the convention involved with driving something that resists being driven half-heartedly. It commands input and rewards such with a thrill for all of your senses.
But then one Jeep turns that premise on its ear. The Jeep FC-150 is so irregular in its appearance, many who have never witnessed one before are quick to ask “Is that really a Jeep?”. Gratefully, the answer is yes and what a Jeep it is.
Built off a CJ5 chassis and manufactured for a decade, from the middle fifties through the mid-sixties, the FC models (short for Forward Control) are as refreshing to the eye of the typical car enthusiast as ride on a wooden roller coaster. Seasoned journalists survey its peculiar exterior with newfound enthusiasm and never fail to don a smile with the prospect of driving such a vehicle.
And what’s not to love? Driving an old FC can be compared to piloting a cross between a lunar rover from a dated science fiction movie bred with a 1950’s-era semi- truck. It’s somewhat awkward due to your body positioning over the front wheels but mostly just outlandishly fun. Heck, your inner child might even believe that you have somehow shrunken yourself and taken the wheel of a classic Tonka truck. That could happen, right? The similarities between them make one ponder the possibility that the two are actually the same. Fact is, toymakers only make cars that replicate ones that people would truly love to drive; hence, the Jeep FC. I’ve never seen kids playing in a backyard sandbox with a toy Moped or a 3-wheeled Cushman. It makes total sense…
My first time driving an FC was just a short little jaunt around a parking lot but it was indeed something special. The large-diameter steering wheel positioned relatively level in front of you and the fact that you can see the ground right in front of your feet makes your automotive sensibilities do an about-face. The controls are simplistic and antiquated, the seating crude and the subtle reminder that you are essentially riding atop the engine is always at elbows length away. Still, the experience is crude yet wondrous.
I would argue that the term “Super Car” being reserved for those that possess absurd speed or racecar-like handling is unfounded, if not completely unfair. While the early FC’s were powered by the puny 134 cubic inch four cylinder engine, it clearly wasn’t their speed that made them so outstanding. Throw in a hydraulic dump bed and a total absence of a hood and you end up with a vehicle capable of totally collapsing conformity while cruising comfortably below the posted limits? It’s hard to deny that Jeep FC indeed ranks as “Super” car and puts it high on my list of the coolest cars around. OlllllllO