It used to be so simple: Wrangler, Cherokee, Grand Cherokee. The first two for rock climbers, the last one for social climbers, but all were cut from the same cloth and all made for men on a mission. In the wide world of automotive America, the Jeep brand was a special fraternity with a proud following.
Then the hunt began for more paying members. Old soldier Cherokee was pushed aside so the happy-go-lucky Liberty could frolic. Grand Cherokee got soft. Commander bowed to serve soccer moms everywhere and, as we speak, the Compass and Patriot are riding in on their front-wheel-drive Mitsubishi parts to win over Starbucks-sipping singles everywhere. Bottom line: as long as you've got money, this once-exclusive fraternity (now technically a sorority) wants you.
Such an attitude could really strangle the Wrangler, a Jeep that lives and dies by its legitimacy. Its ties to its World War II past make redesigns rare, but 2007 is such a year, and the result could either restore the brand's balance or tip it over entirely.
What'll it be?
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