The story of my old Bronco is probably longer than this article will allow because the old girl has seen some interesting things throughout her almost 46 years in my family. Dad used to tell me the story of how he came to own the Bronco, and I thought it would be something to pass on.

My dad was a military man, avid outdoorsman and dedicated hunter who spent most of his free time hunting, fishing or just shooting his guns as a hobby. Back then he owned a 1965 GMC 2WD pickup, which carried his big slide-in camper, and dad just rode with his friends to get to the good hunting spots. Most of them owned Jeeps and one had an International Scout. Dad wasn’t very impressed with any of them, but he loved the idea of a small, capable 4WD that had an enclosed cab where he could lock his gear in and haul out his game.

In August of 1968, he got serious about wanting his own vehicle, so he was on the lookout. First he visited the Jeep dealer and spotted one on the lot he thought he could live with, but the dealer was not willing to work with dad or give him the deal he wanted. So dad told the salesman that he was going down the street to the Ford dealership to see what they had to offer. Luckily for our family, he made that trip. He was met by an enthusiastic salesperson who understood exactly what dad wanted — a capable 4WD that had everything he needed but nothing he didn’t. Low and behold, on the lot was a brand new 1968 Meadowlark Yellow Ford Bronco wagon with a V8, limited slip differentials on both ends, and dual gas tanks. It was exactly the vehicle dad was looking for to make those long hunting trips into California, Nevada and Colorado and to make sure he got home no matter what the terrain. A deal was struck, and on August 12, 1968, dad gave a whopping hold fee of $20 and the next day came back with a down payment of $394.05. Wow, imagine that today — a Bronco for $3,400!

I came along into this world in 1972 while my family was stationed in England. Yep, you guessed it. My dad loved this Bronco so much he had sold everything else he owned and had taken the old girl overseas with him. Mom was rushed to the hospital in labor in the Bronco, and they thought maybe I would be born there. Luckily they made it to the hospital in time, but this is where I attribute my obsession with Broncos.

My entire life I have known the old Bronco and have many wonderful memories — laying in the back seat driving to hunting spots, listening to the AM radio from the single dash speaker, or sitting on the tailgate taking trashcans to the local dump trying to drag my feet on the road. I can remember it like it was yesterday, even though it was over 30 years ago, and would give anything to have those days back.

As time moved on I grew up and it was now my 16th birthday and dad was faced with a dilemma: either buy me a car to drive or give me one of the ones he had. He gave me the choice, and guess what I chose? Yep, the Bronco. This is where I wish time could change because as soon as I took possession of the old girl, I took the top off (it had never been off up to this point), cut the dash for a big stereo, cut the fenders and put a lift kit and huge tires on her. Mind you, dad was not very happy about all this, yet he supported my efforts.

Not too many years into high school the old Bronco was on another type of hunt, but this one wasn’t for animals which brings me to how I met my wife which involves my Bronco when I literally chased down this poor girl in a shopping mall parking lot at night with every bit of my 9 KC lights that the Bronco had blazing. It was so bad she stopped the car and panicked (this was before cell phones) hoping someone would help. Long story short, I met my wife Teri that night and just like my Bronco she hasn’t left my side since.

I drove that Bronco daily from 1988 until 1992, when I bought something a little easier on gas. The old girl was tucked away in my parents’ garage, but she still got driven on weekends and nice days. When my daughter Allison was born, I sold the gas sipper to put a down payment on a minivan. I didn’t sell the Bronco, but she was almost never driven now as my wife and I had two cars and our new house only had a two-car driveway with no garage. The Bronco was kept at mom and dad’s house on the other side of town, so I was lucky to visit her on the weekends a couple times a month. Life changes continued, and I joined the military to make a better life for my young family. We sold everything but the Bronco and the minivan to move to my first duty location. Oh by the way, don’t plan to drive an old Bronco towing a boat across the desert in June because it is hotter than you can imagine. Let’s just say I ended up driving down the highway in my undershorts to try and stay cool!

After many changes — from street truck, to dune blaster, then to rock crawler — the old Bronco kept up with the times and never skipped a beat. But the years were creeping up on her. As time rolled on, I had purchased a new truck and picked up a few more Broncos, but I never would be able to bring back the originality of the old Bronco … or could I?

In 2002, I was reassigned to a base in the New Mexico desert, and this is where I think someone was looking out for me. While out on a two-lane highway, we passed an old ranch house, and protruding from its barn was a Bronco. At this point in life, I had thought my Bronco capacity had overgrown my wife’s understanding, so as much as it hurt, I kept driving. To my complete surprise, my wife looked over at me and said, “What, aren’t you going to go back?” I immediately made a U-turn in the middle of the road.
What I saw next was like a mirage to me. Sitting in front of me was a 1968 Meadowlark Yellow, all original Bronco wagon with a V8, just like the one I remembered from my childhood. So I knocked on the weathered door to see what the story was. An old rancher named Jack came to the door to ask what I needed. I explained what feels like my whole life story to him about Broncos and how his was just like my dad’s was back in the day. He told me his story about how his Bronco had taken him on many hunting adventures. But his had not moved since the early ’80s, when he could no longer steer the manual steering or push in the clutch. He still kept the engine up by starting it often but it hadn’t moved since. After much storytelling and reminiscing, I got a heck of a deal on the Bronco. But it came with one caveat. Jack made me promise that I would “never jack it up or cut out the fenders to put big ugly tires on it.” Having made that mistake once in my life made it easy to make the deal. I returned the next weekend with my trailer and my new Bronco story began. As I would come to find out, this Bronco had every factory option dad’s had plus a couple dealer add-ons. But from the outside, they were twins.

A few more moves later, we finally owned our own home. I was lucky enough to build a large workshop for all my toys which by this time included five early Broncos. These Broncos parked next to each other was like seeing my life in rewind. Dad’s old ’68 at this time had well over 230K miles on it and was in desperate need of a complete refresh. So I began by tearing her down to the frame for the start of a frame-off restoration.

By this time, my daughter Allison was 15 years old and, like me, had spent much of her life around Broncos and many hours in my shop helping me tinker with my collection. Then it happened, the thing every Bronco dad wants to hear (and every Bronco mom dreads), “Dad, I would love to have my own Bronco when I turn 16.” This was my reason to build the old Bronco from the ground up with the best of everything, in the interest of my daughter’s safety and reputation! Allison, Teri and my son Josh all had a hand in building our new legacy Bronco and for me, it was a tribute to my dad (who had passed on five years prior) to have his granddaughter driving his old pride for many years to come. Although we didn’t build it back the way dad would recognize her, we built the rig to the specs we all agreed upon, and I’m sure dad would understand.

Today I have the best of both worlds: an exact copy of dad’s original Bronco, which takes me back to my childhood every time I drive her, and a Bronco-fanatic daughter who has dad’s actual Bronco (although vastly different), safely transporting his only granddaughter in style. This is my Bronco story of how one man’s love of the outdoors unknowingly started a family tradition.