jeep-N-montero
Expedition Leader
I agree about some cars lacking soul or being too common to "be cool", that's why we own several cars that you don't see everyday.
Do-it-all WK diesel questions...
- Thread starter billy bee
- Start date
I agree about some cars lacking soul or being too common to "be cool", that's why we own several cars that you don't see everyday.
Probably already did just by thinking that, huh?
OK, I went to look at a 2006 GC Ltd with QDII and a 4.7 at a local used car lot today. Definitely not the car for me. Oh, I am still thinking GC CRD, but the one I looked at today did this to me:
I wanted to look around the cargo area. The hatch was heavy, but I lifted it to the fully open position. Then I ducked my head in to poke around and....WHAMMO. The hatch cracked me on the head. I hate that GC. Um, are the hatch struts a problem?
bb
I wanted to look around the cargo area. The hatch was heavy, but I lifted it to the fully open position. Then I ducked my head in to poke around and....WHAMMO. The hatch cracked me on the head. I hate that GC. Um, are the hatch struts a problem?
bb
jeep-N-montero
Expedition Leader
But this was a 4.7 gasser, a CRD would never harm a soul!
jeep-N-montero
Expedition Leader
OK, I went to look at a 2006 GC Ltd with QDII and a 4.7 at a local used car lot today. Definitely not the car for me. Oh, I am still thinking GC CRD, but the one I looked at today did this to me:
I wanted to look around the cargo area. The hatch was heavy, but I lifted it to the fully open position. Then I ducked my head in to poke around and....WHAMMO. The hatch cracked me on the head. I hate that GC. Um, are the hatch struts a problem?
bb
The hatch struts typically last 2 years or so.
WK Shopping--Caveat Emptor
Here the PG-rated picture my wife posted on FB:
Here's a brief explanation of what happened so you can avoid this happening to you...
The Backstory (Which you guys already know)
Occasionally, I have been known to get a bug up my butt. Recently, as I am tiring of driving the cramped, sub-compact VW Jetta to and from Fresno, I got a great idea--buy something bigger and more comfortable. Of course, I could just drive the truck. The Jetta gets 49 mpg; the truck gets 13. Driving the truck makes good sense for my comfort, but not so good on the wallet. Then it came to me: buy one car that could replace both the Jetta and the truck. Secretly, I knew Mary would get on board with a one car reduction in the fleet. Further, I like the idea of one less car to maintain. Not so excited at the prospect of having to sell/buy cars. Just a pain.
But you get the idea--my mind started to dwell on my options. I landed on a 2008 Jeep Grand Cherokee CRD. CRD stands for common rail diesel. Yes, an SUV that gets decent mpg's, can tow the boat, is bigger and more comfortable to drive than the Jetta, can take me camping and off-roading occasionally, and can still serve as the dog car. Check, check, check, check, check, and check.
Step One...
The search begins. It is a rare vehicle and few are available in CA. Seeming them pop up in Denver, Phoenix, and the Pacific North Wet. So, I figure I had better find a similar vintage Jeep Grand Cherokee locally so I can check out all the features and size it up (literally). Bingo. There's one on a used car lot in Santa Maria. Yesterday morning, I decide to buzz down there for a look-see.
It's a seedy lot, but I have no intention of buying that particular silver Jeep Grand Cherokee and don't mind wasting their time. Turns out they just tossed me the key and returned to their internet porn.
I spent some time in the driver's seat playing with the seat and steering wheel adjustments. Comfy. I set the seat to a position that's good for me and jump in behind the driver's seat to check the legroom. Not too terribly comfy, but four adults will fit in well enough.
The Offense...
Then I go to the back of the Jeep to check out the cargo area and doggie limousine capabilities. I lift the gate. Seems heavy, but I don't think too much of it. I lift it to the fully open position and duck my head in to have a peek. Whammo. Bang, bang Maxwell's silver tailgate came down upon my head.
I was a little shocked and reached up to feel around on the top of my noggin. It was starting to hurt already, and I pulled my hand down to see it covered in blood.
More Backstory
Now here is where the story takes an uncomfortable turn. About 10 years ago, I am getting my blood drawn. No problem. I have always been curious and sorta liked watching a phlebotomist at work. Suddenly, I start to feel feint. Problem. Before I pass out, I quickly close my eyes and turn away. The feeling passes, but I have not been willing or able, apparently, to watch my blood being drawn since. Apparently, I don't like the sight of blood.
Now, I work in a hospital, have been injured countless times, spilled pints and pints of my own blood (not all at once), been the first to attend to an injured person, but am not comfortable with the sudden awareness that my hand is covered in blood. It is dripping down my scalp, into my face, and I start to fear that I'll pass out. I rush into the used car salesman's office and announce that the Jeep attacked me. Setting aside the internet porn, the salesman jumps to my aid. He takes me to the bathroom hands me paper towels and has me apply pressure to the wound.
First-Aid 101
Apparently, Bounty, the quicker picker upper, has absorption limitations. He keeps handing me folded paper towel after folded paper towel and I keep soaking them in blood. We have quite the assembly line going--towel, fold, pressure, toss, repeat. But ten towels into it and there appears to be no decrease in blood flow. At this point, I have two thoughts: 1) I am not going to pass out from the sight of my own blood. That's good. But, 2) I am going to pass out from blood loss.
I had a third, fleeting thought about being trapped in the bathroom with a strange man who was watching computer porn. Was it gay porn? Hey, I am ok with it if it was. Live and let live. No judgement. But I am about to pass out here, and...
Suddenly, I pull a towel away from my scalp that isn't completely blood-soaked. The bleeding is coming under control. Keep pressure on. A half dozen more bloodied Bountys and I decide it's time to call and cancel my lunch plans and go see about stitches. A call to my good friend Greg, who offers to come get me. Used car salesman guy also offers to drive me somewhere. I decline both offers. I got this.
A few minutes ago I was going to pass out at the sight of my own blood. Now I am ready to drive myself 20 miles to the Pismo urgent care place keeping pressure on an open wound while driving my cramped, Jetta TDI with a 5 speed. I pride myself on being a poor multi-tasker. But turns out I can shift, signal, steer, navigate traffic, and apply constant pressure at the same time. I made it, but that was dumb.
This might be bad...
The urgent care receptionist takes one look at me and rushes me into an empty room. Upon reflection, I wonder if my color was a little off. The gash in my scalp alarmed them but she had a funny look on her face when I walked in. I calmly ask: "You guys do stitches?" She replies: "Lemme see what you got going on there?" I bend down and remove the paper towel. She gasped.
I was quickly seen and checked over by a PA who was a little alarmed that I was nauseated and had some pain radiating down the side of my face and into my ear and neck. There was a patch of my face that felt numb, too. Fearing concussion or brain bleed or some other brain trauma, they recommend a trip to the ER.
By now, Mary had responded to the blasé text I'd sent her: "At med stop. Come by when you can." She trotted me off to the Arroyo Grande hospital. They said a CT was not 100% necessary but a good precaution, but their imaging machine was down. It would be an hour before it was working again. In the meantime, they would fix up the wound. A little Tylenol, Zofran, Lidocaine, saline, iodine, and five staples later, I was feeling pretty good. The pain and nausea had subsided, and I was ready to leave.
Still quite sore too the touch this morning, and I still have a headache. But I think I'm good.
The Moral of the Story...
What is the overarching concern here? Concussion? Brain bleed? Trauma? Eh, I'm ok. My concern: I still need to check out the cargo area of a Jeep Grand Cherokee WK...
bb
PS: I made up the part about the Internet porn. The rest is true. I swear.
Here the PG-rated picture my wife posted on FB:
Here's a brief explanation of what happened so you can avoid this happening to you...
The Backstory (Which you guys already know)
Occasionally, I have been known to get a bug up my butt. Recently, as I am tiring of driving the cramped, sub-compact VW Jetta to and from Fresno, I got a great idea--buy something bigger and more comfortable. Of course, I could just drive the truck. The Jetta gets 49 mpg; the truck gets 13. Driving the truck makes good sense for my comfort, but not so good on the wallet. Then it came to me: buy one car that could replace both the Jetta and the truck. Secretly, I knew Mary would get on board with a one car reduction in the fleet. Further, I like the idea of one less car to maintain. Not so excited at the prospect of having to sell/buy cars. Just a pain.
But you get the idea--my mind started to dwell on my options. I landed on a 2008 Jeep Grand Cherokee CRD. CRD stands for common rail diesel. Yes, an SUV that gets decent mpg's, can tow the boat, is bigger and more comfortable to drive than the Jetta, can take me camping and off-roading occasionally, and can still serve as the dog car. Check, check, check, check, check, and check.
Step One...
The search begins. It is a rare vehicle and few are available in CA. Seeming them pop up in Denver, Phoenix, and the Pacific North Wet. So, I figure I had better find a similar vintage Jeep Grand Cherokee locally so I can check out all the features and size it up (literally). Bingo. There's one on a used car lot in Santa Maria. Yesterday morning, I decide to buzz down there for a look-see.
It's a seedy lot, but I have no intention of buying that particular silver Jeep Grand Cherokee and don't mind wasting their time. Turns out they just tossed me the key and returned to their internet porn.
I spent some time in the driver's seat playing with the seat and steering wheel adjustments. Comfy. I set the seat to a position that's good for me and jump in behind the driver's seat to check the legroom. Not too terribly comfy, but four adults will fit in well enough.
The Offense...
Then I go to the back of the Jeep to check out the cargo area and doggie limousine capabilities. I lift the gate. Seems heavy, but I don't think too much of it. I lift it to the fully open position and duck my head in to have a peek. Whammo. Bang, bang Maxwell's silver tailgate came down upon my head.
I was a little shocked and reached up to feel around on the top of my noggin. It was starting to hurt already, and I pulled my hand down to see it covered in blood.
More Backstory
Now here is where the story takes an uncomfortable turn. About 10 years ago, I am getting my blood drawn. No problem. I have always been curious and sorta liked watching a phlebotomist at work. Suddenly, I start to feel feint. Problem. Before I pass out, I quickly close my eyes and turn away. The feeling passes, but I have not been willing or able, apparently, to watch my blood being drawn since. Apparently, I don't like the sight of blood.
Now, I work in a hospital, have been injured countless times, spilled pints and pints of my own blood (not all at once), been the first to attend to an injured person, but am not comfortable with the sudden awareness that my hand is covered in blood. It is dripping down my scalp, into my face, and I start to fear that I'll pass out. I rush into the used car salesman's office and announce that the Jeep attacked me. Setting aside the internet porn, the salesman jumps to my aid. He takes me to the bathroom hands me paper towels and has me apply pressure to the wound.
First-Aid 101
Apparently, Bounty, the quicker picker upper, has absorption limitations. He keeps handing me folded paper towel after folded paper towel and I keep soaking them in blood. We have quite the assembly line going--towel, fold, pressure, toss, repeat. But ten towels into it and there appears to be no decrease in blood flow. At this point, I have two thoughts: 1) I am not going to pass out from the sight of my own blood. That's good. But, 2) I am going to pass out from blood loss.
I had a third, fleeting thought about being trapped in the bathroom with a strange man who was watching computer porn. Was it gay porn? Hey, I am ok with it if it was. Live and let live. No judgement. But I am about to pass out here, and...
Suddenly, I pull a towel away from my scalp that isn't completely blood-soaked. The bleeding is coming under control. Keep pressure on. A half dozen more bloodied Bountys and I decide it's time to call and cancel my lunch plans and go see about stitches. A call to my good friend Greg, who offers to come get me. Used car salesman guy also offers to drive me somewhere. I decline both offers. I got this.
A few minutes ago I was going to pass out at the sight of my own blood. Now I am ready to drive myself 20 miles to the Pismo urgent care place keeping pressure on an open wound while driving my cramped, Jetta TDI with a 5 speed. I pride myself on being a poor multi-tasker. But turns out I can shift, signal, steer, navigate traffic, and apply constant pressure at the same time. I made it, but that was dumb.
This might be bad...
The urgent care receptionist takes one look at me and rushes me into an empty room. Upon reflection, I wonder if my color was a little off. The gash in my scalp alarmed them but she had a funny look on her face when I walked in. I calmly ask: "You guys do stitches?" She replies: "Lemme see what you got going on there?" I bend down and remove the paper towel. She gasped.
I was quickly seen and checked over by a PA who was a little alarmed that I was nauseated and had some pain radiating down the side of my face and into my ear and neck. There was a patch of my face that felt numb, too. Fearing concussion or brain bleed or some other brain trauma, they recommend a trip to the ER.
By now, Mary had responded to the blasé text I'd sent her: "At med stop. Come by when you can." She trotted me off to the Arroyo Grande hospital. They said a CT was not 100% necessary but a good precaution, but their imaging machine was down. It would be an hour before it was working again. In the meantime, they would fix up the wound. A little Tylenol, Zofran, Lidocaine, saline, iodine, and five staples later, I was feeling pretty good. The pain and nausea had subsided, and I was ready to leave.
Still quite sore too the touch this morning, and I still have a headache. But I think I'm good.
The Moral of the Story...
What is the overarching concern here? Concussion? Brain bleed? Trauma? Eh, I'm ok. My concern: I still need to check out the cargo area of a Jeep Grand Cherokee WK...
bb
PS: I made up the part about the Internet porn. The rest is true. I swear.
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