For most of my life, my dad Tony has driven Japanese vehicles. When I was a kid, he owned a mix of Toyota Cressida station wagons and 4Runners. He currently has an early 2000s Corolla for running errands and a third-generation 4Runner that he uses for home improvement projects. However, there was a brief time decades ago when he had a full-size “SJ” Jeep Wagoneer.

I remember the big beast in my childhood home’s driveway around the late 1980s/early 1990s. Given how long it’s been since those days, I had to jog my dad’s memory of his dalliance with what Jeep calls “the father of all luxury 4×4 SUVs.” He recently flew from Austin to visit my family in metro Phoenix. While my son Hayden played with his toys nearby (and occasionally blurted out random sounds in his adorable little voice), my dad and I sat on the couch and discussed his path to Wagoneer ownership. Like the Wagoneer itself, it began in the 1960s.

It wasn’t until we were more than a quarter of an hour into our conversation that my dad remembered what led him to wanting one of the rigs: His uncle had one. My dad recalls him buying the Wagoneer in 1966. “I just loved it. I think that was one of the reasons that I bought this.”

Several decades later, my dad had a chance to buy his own Wagoneer, which he describes as being dark green or dark brown with a beige interior. Or was it a Grand Wagoneer, the new name it received for the 1984 model year? I had to be careful to ask questions without too many details because I didn’t want to risk planting a false memory in my dad’s mind.

The 1984 model year is a tricky one due to its mix of elements from the earlier Wagoneers and the full-size Cherokee’s vertical taillights, the latter of which lasted until the Grand Wagoneer was discontinued in 1991. I sent my dad pictures of the grille, taillights, steering wheel, and gauges from an ’83 Wagoneer and a post-facelift ’87, then asked him which ones matched his vehicle. He recalled his having a round horn pad and round gauges. But what about the taillights? “Wraparound.” So, just for the sake of simplicity, let’s say he had an ’83 Wagoneer. Based on his description of it having the vinyl “wood” panels, beige upholstery (which Jeep called “Beige”), cruise control, and power everything, it sounds like my dad bought the top-of-the-line Wagoneer Limited model.

By the late 1980s, he had some money to spend on things that interested him. That’s also when one of his coworkers — let’s call him Ray — started educating him about the different models and features in the market. Ray had a friend with a Wagoneer that he was looking to sell; that guy ended up bringing it by my dad’s office on a Friday afternoon to show him. Ray’s pal must’ve had a hard time finding a place to park because, according to my dad, the rules about visitors back then were pretty lax, which meant a lot of wives swung by the office on Friday afternoons to get their husbands’ paychecks before they spent them at nearby bars.

The first thing that crossed my dad’s mind when he saw the Wagoneer in person was its enormous size, which he thought would be great for hauling my older brother Anthony and me around. But he didn’t let his interest in the Wagoneer overwhelm his financial restraint. As my dad put it, “If it wasn’t a deal, I would not touch it. Period.” The Wagoneer Ray’s buddy brought over had approximately 100,000 miles on the odometer, which led to some leaks, but those had been fixed by the time my dad went for a test drive. Despite its high mileage, the Wagoneer was so pleasant that my dad ended up buying it.

The Wagoneer’s size, which was so attractive at first, became one of its biggest drawbacks shortly after my dad brought it home. At the time, my parents were used to driving small cars, such as the Mazda GLC hatchback and the first-generation Nissan 300ZX (which Ray changed from black to candy apple red in the body shop he owned). The much larger Wagoneer took some getting used to: My dad told me the “Damn thing covered the whole yard.” My 5-foot-2-inch mom had no interest in being behind the wheel of the behemoth.

Perhaps even bigger than the Wagoneer’s dimensions was its thirst. Over the years, Jeep offered six-cylinders engines in the Wagoneer, but my dad’s had the carbureted 360ci V-8, so it wasn’t shocking that “It was eating gas like crazy.” With the exception of a drive down to San Marcos (maybe), my dad never took any of us on an adventure in his Wagoneer, although I’m sure my brother and I accompanied him during some of his numerous trips to a gas station. Not long after he bought the Wagoneer, my dad sold it, breaking even on his fantasy vehicle that turned into a frustrating reality.

I had been meaning to have this conversation with my dad for a long time and I’m glad I finally did. It wasn’t just for the fact that we talked about one of my dream vehicles; it taught me that my dad and I have more in common when it comes to cars than I thought. Even he, a diehard buyer of Japanese cars, couldn’t resist the allure of the Wagoneer’s brawny presence and faux-wood paneling. Just as he once did, I daydream about owning an SJ Grand Wagoneer and going on road trips with my family. I hope that one of these days I can go wheeling in one with my dad and my son — after we stop for gas, of course.