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Jeep Wrangler Rubicon - long-term review - Report No:10

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Jeep Wrangler Rubicon - long-term review - Report No:10 | Top Gear

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A shame, because this American icon will out-4x4 almost everything

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Jeep Wrangler Rubicon - long-term review - Report No:10

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
A shame, because this American icon will out-4x4 almost everything

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Jeep Wrangler Rubicon - long-term review - Report No:10

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
A shame, because this American icon will out-4x4 almost everything

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So absent is the Wrangler from the minds of Brits that even in well-informed motoring journalist land, rarely does Jeep’s big 4x4 crop up when an off-road group test is mentioned. Which, given sales and brand awareness in the US, is more than a little bit silly. Were we not running one as a long-term test car, it might not have made our ‘mega 4x4s’ film on YouTube (see below), a test in which it dominated when the going got tough.

So impressed were we with the Jeep on the film’s recce that it was immediately shoehorned into the main feature alongside a Defender Octa, Arctic Trucks Land Cruiser, and monstrous Ineos Grenadier by LeTech – and on the tricky stuff, it was the Jeep that shone through.

Cast your mind back to 2022. In Europe at least, the motoring press were so consumed by how the Ineos Grenadier stacked up to the new Defender at launch that the Wrangler barely got a mention. But in off-road, utility, and overlanding circles (Ineos’ target market, remember), it was arguably a more meaningful comparison. And the Wrangler already had skin in the game. Front and rear locking diffs? Introduced on the “TJ” Wrangler in 2003. Disconnectable sway bars? Factory from 2007. Ultra-low crawl ratios? Significantly lower than European rivals. Nowhere to put your left leg on right-hand drive models? The Wrangler had that licked before the Grenadier was even born.

So why the cold shoulder? Are we Brits so consumed by the black Labrador and olive-wellied Land Rover aesthetic that we simply forget the Wrangler exists? Or are those big wheels and massive arches so synonymous with rock-crawling in Utah that they’re simply seen as excessive in Upper Oddington?

Either way, it’s a crying shame because there’s a capability and maturity of execution that few other vehicles can match off-road. Sure, this one’s a little modded, but really it’s the ultra-low gear ratios, torque multiplication from the 4LO system and disconnectable sway bars (all OEM, remember) that really make a difference here, and that’s before we get into the realms of front and rear lockable differentials which, should you need them – and you often won’t – work brilliantly without the need for an engineering degree. The same can’t be said of the Grenadier.

So, mindful of comparisons to more road-biased 4x4s, we headed to Wales to meet a bunch of lightly-modified Land Rovers and take on some of Wales’ toughest green lanes. Sure, this Jeep’s £65k (plus £12k of mods), but these lanes were carved by early Defenders, and we’re a long way from Moab, so the Jeep’s not on its home turf.

Locking differentials left untouched for fairness, the Jeep simply crawled up sections that needed boot-fulls of right foot (and saw one rear-diff self-destruct) in the Land Rovers. Granted, the Jeep felt wide on Wales’ dainty little lanes (this one’s a few inches wider than standard), but other than navigating a couple of narrow gateposts, the Jeep made mincemeat of its company.

Most noticeably, the Jeep is mechanically sympathetic to its own drivetrain. It tiptoes around, delicately, on minimal revs, but with heaps of torque being applied across each axle, each wheel subsequently applying as much turning force on the ground as possible. Progress is slow but deliberate, line choice is easily calculated, and the throttle needs a tickle, not a stab. And because of all that, there’s less shock through the driveshafts, less impact on the diffs, and probably less impact on your bank account in repairs.

Conversely, the Defenders bounce and scramble. They’re more entertaining, there’s more noise (and black soot), but there’s less constant forward motion. Front wheels hop and skip between rocks, rather than gliding over them. They need more momentum, more brute force. The Jeep’s a snow leopard. The Defenders, a drunk mountain goat.

Y’see, whilst it might look all shouty and butch in Mike-from-Monsters-Inc-green, the Jeep’s actually a bit of a softy. It’s kinder to its driver, and it’s kinder to the countryside beneath its wheels in the process. There’s rarely a loss of traction, you use less throttle and revs, and subsequently there’s less damage to the trail. In a world where greenlane access for 4x4s is tightening, perhaps this gentle green giant is what the world needs…

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So absent is the Wrangler from the minds of Brits that even in well-informed motoring journalist land, rarely does Jeep’s big 4x4 crop up when an off-road group test is mentioned. Which, given sales and brand awareness in the US, is more than a little bit silly. Were we not running one as a long-term test car, it might not have made our ‘mega 4x4s’ film on YouTube (see below), a test in which it dominated when the going got tough.

So impressed were we with the Jeep on the film’s recce that it was immediately shoehorned into the main feature alongside a Defender Octa, Arctic Trucks Land Cruiser, and monstrous Ineos Grenadier by LeTech – and on the tricky stuff, it was the Jeep that shone through.

Cast your mind back to 2022. In Europe at least, the motoring press were so consumed by how the Ineos Grenadier stacked up to the new Defender at launch that the Wrangler barely got a mention. But in off-road, utility, and overlanding circles (Ineos’ target market, remember), it was arguably a more meaningful comparison. And the Wrangler already had skin in the game. Front and rear locking diffs? Introduced on the “TJ” Wrangler in 2003. Disconnectable sway bars? Factory from 2007. Ultra-low crawl ratios? Significantly lower than European rivals. Nowhere to put your left leg on right-hand drive models? The Wrangler had that licked before the Grenadier was even born.

So why the cold shoulder? Are we Brits so consumed by the black Labrador and olive-wellied Land Rover aesthetic that we simply forget the Wrangler exists? Or are those big wheels and massive arches so synonymous with rock-crawling in Utah that they’re simply seen as excessive in Upper Oddington?

23 minutes 53 seconds

Either way, it’s a crying shame because there’s a capability and maturity of execution that few other vehicles can match off-road. Sure, this one’s a little modded, but really it’s the ultra-low gear ratios, torque multiplication from the 4LO system and disconnectable sway bars (all OEM, remember) that really make a difference here, and that’s before we get into the realms of front and rear lockable differentials which, should you need them – and you often won’t – work brilliantly without the need for an engineering degree. The same can’t be said of the Grenadier.

So, mindful of comparisons to more road-biased 4x4s, we headed to Wales to meet a bunch of lightly-modified Land Rovers and take on some of Wales’ toughest green lanes. Sure, this Jeep’s £65k (plus £12k of mods), but these lanes were carved by early Defenders, and we’re a long way from Moab, so the Jeep’s not on its home turf.

Locking differentials left untouched for fairness, the Jeep simply crawled up sections that needed boot-fulls of right foot (and saw one rear-diff self-destruct) in the Land Rovers. Granted, the Jeep felt wide on Wales’ dainty little lanes (this one’s a few inches wider than standard), but other than navigating a couple of narrow gateposts, the Jeep made mincemeat of its company.

Most noticeably, the Jeep is mechanically sympathetic to its own drivetrain. It tiptoes around, delicately, on minimal revs, but with heaps of torque being applied across each axle, each wheel subsequently applying as much turning force on the ground as possible. Progress is slow but deliberate, line choice is easily calculated, and the throttle needs a tickle, not a stab. And because of all that, there’s less shock through the driveshafts, less impact on the diffs, and probably less impact on your bank account in repairs.

Conversely, the Defenders bounce and scramble. They’re more entertaining, there’s more noise (and black soot), but there’s less constant forward motion. Front wheels hop and skip between rocks, rather than gliding over them. They need more momentum, more brute force. The Jeep’s a snow leopard. The Defenders, a drunk mountain goat.

Y’see, whilst it might look all shouty and butch in Mike-from-Monsters-Inc-green, the Jeep’s actually a bit of a softy. It’s kinder to its driver, and it’s kinder to the countryside beneath its wheels in the process. There’s rarely a loss of traction, you use less throttle and revs, and subsequently there’s less damage to the trail. In a world where greenlane access for 4x4s is tightening, perhaps this gentle green giant is what the world needs…

# data.attributes.field_car_headline
Jeep Wrangler: why does this enormously capable 'gentle green giant' get forgotten?

# data.attributes.field_car_teaser_description
A shame, because this American icon will out-4x4 almost everything

# data.attributes.field_sub_title
Jeep Wrangler: why does this enormously capable 'gentle green giant' get forgotten?