Jeep Brakes and the Wonderful Willys

Yore Aspen

Jeanne Willoughby Englert sitting atop a 1950s Willys in front of what later became La Cocina restaurant on East Hopkins Avenue. (Doris Willoughby/Willoughby photo collection) Click to Enlarge

Tim Willoughby
October 13, 2007



Recently a caller to National Public Radio's "Car Talk" asked if something could be done about his Jeep brakes. The Magliozzi brothers' answer was a derisive laugh. Jeeps are notorious for poor brakes. They became dangerous when they put bigger motors in them so they could go faster than the brakes could slow them down.

In the 1950s, Jeeps were the vehicles of choice for anyone in Aspen who could afford one. They were the perfect match for Aspen's unpaved streets and the most reliable way to navigate deep snow in the winter. The Willys Jeep, made by Kaiser in Toledo, Ohio, was not designed for fast travel. Speeds over 45 mph could be attained only if you were traveling downhill on pavement. At 35 mph on gravel washboard surfaces like Maroon and Castle Creek roads, you signed up for a noisy, teeth-shattering ride.

But if you wanted to tackle Aspen Mountain you could slip the Willys CJ (civilian jeep) into four-wheel-low range and it would purr straight up Little Nell. The low gearing enabled it to climb any slope at any altitude, even with its low-horsepower, four-cylinder engine.

Coming down was more interesting. You could stand on the brakes and even at slow speeds you might not stop, at least not for a long, nail-biting distance. However, shifting into low range held your speed to a reasonable crawl. Many Aspenites tell stories of careening down Aspen Mountain or Pearl Pass, top to bottom, with no brakes at all. Not by choice, but because their brakes had gone out altogether.

Then there was that other Willys quirk.

While going downhill with the gears holding back the speed, a bump from hitting a rock (on four-wheel-drive roads that's all there is) could throw the vehicle out of gear. The law of unanticipated consequences ordained this catastrophe when you were on the steepest grade, the sharpest turn and the narrowest of roads with a precipitous cliff alongside as far ahead as you could see.

John Healy worked on all the Jeeps in Aspen, making him the most likely the national Willys expert. He devised and patented a device to keep jeeps from slipping out of gear, and installed it on many Aspen jeeps. Who knows how many fatalities he prevented.

Some Jeeps had a forward-facing back seat, but most didn't. Children, or any other passengers, sat facing sideways on the narrow metal benches above the rear wheels. There was just enough room for a big dog and a small child, or a big child and a small dog, and a couple bags of groceries.

There was no upholstery in a Jeep. The only hint of extravagance was a tiny glove compartment where you could keep a spare fan belt. Early models, which lacked a keyed ignition, sported a button you pushed to run the starter motor. That was OK in Aspen because most people, even if they had keys, left them in their vehicles.

Except for the brake, the Willys was one of the most reliable and durable vehicles ever built. They started in the coldest weather and required minimal maintenance. Because you wouldn't take a trip to Denver in one, and usually just used them to get around town, even the old ones had low mileage accumulations.

Those blessed with having one will never part with it. Admire them, but if you see one coming up fast in your rearview mirror, then remember their brakes.

Tim Willoughby's family story parallels Aspen's. He began sharing folklore while a teacher for Aspen Country Day School and Colorado Mountain College. Now a tourist in his native town, he views it with historical perspective. He can be contacted at redmtn@schat.net.