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Mistakes Were Made: A 2001 Jeep Cherokee Project Covered in Red Flags
The steep sides of desolate northeastern New Mexico’s Capulin Volcano give off a prehistoric landscape vibe. Up top sits a picture-perfect crater, a reminder of Capulin’s last eruption about 60,000 years ago. It’s awe-inspiring—an apt metaphor for the oil and coolant eruption under the hood of the boxy, dark green Jeep Cherokee which I limp along U.S. Highway 64 in Capulin’s shadow. My goal: make it to an auto parts store in Raton, New Mexico. There are breathtaking landscapes between Raton and Capulin, but little else. My cell phone reads “No Service.”
The Cherokee’s temperature gauge hovers just above center, aided by below-freezing ambient temperatures. But there’s no avoiding what I soon discover: a milky substance under the oil cap and a bubbling coolant overflow tank. Oil and coolant slosh around together inside the Cherokee’s 4.0-liter inline-six.
Who’s to blame? My mind races through suspects, but ultimately I accept responsibility. I ignored every bit of advice I’ve ever written about buying an old car, sight unseen, and driving it home.
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Five Critical Tips For Buying a Car Sight Unseen (No, Really. They’re Critical.)
Let me preface the following by explaining that when it comes to Jeeps, I am a veteran. I have owned dozens of XJ-body (1984-2001) Cherokees. The oldest example was a spiffy ‘86 with a five-speed manual, a spare tire mounted to the liftgate, and, unfortunately, a lump of a General Motors carbureted 2.8-liter V-6 under the hood. The youngest is still in my possession: a very late-production 2001 unit that my parents bought new. With under 60,000 miles on the clock, it is as close to Concours-grade as an XJ gets. My Jeep resume reflects the many other Cherokees I’ve fixed up over the years and rehomed as my form of “garage therapy.”
I also know a lot about buying cars sight unseen and getting them home. I’ve logged thousands of miles driving decades-old cars back to my home in Denver, Colorado, doing so without any serious hitches. Up to this point, I’d been successful because I asked sellers the right questions, performed inspections, and, ultimately, trusted my gut.
This adventure started innocuously enough. It was a typical evening of doom-scrolling used-car listings on my phone when one, located 600 miles away in Texas, caught my eye. I squinted through the fuzzy photos and studied everything from the Forest Green Pearl Coat paint to the Agate leather seats, noting no obvious modifications. The dealer posted the Jeep’s VIN, so I pulled up a build sheet. It checked a lot of boxes: a final-year model in top Limited trim with nearly all factory options, including the desirable high-riding Up Country suspension. I set a reminder to call the dealer the next morning.
The woman who answered my call said the Cherokee was having its oil pump replaced. That was the second red flag. The first was the fact that the Jeep was at a buy-here/pay-here lot, one with the kind of name designed to appear on the first line of a circa-1992 Yellow Pages. Both warning signs should have prevented me from pursuing further. The rest of the cars listed on the dealer’s Internet 1.0-style website were high-mile, decade-old pickup trucks and mid-size sedans. A seemingly mint Cherokee didn’t fit in. The word “repo” came up frequently in the dealership’s Google reviews. Think Danny DeVito in Matilda.
Tip #1: Don’t act too eager
She promised to text me better photos of the Jeep once it was fixed. I tried not to sound excited, but y actions indicated otherwise. I called her first thing the next morning. And the next morning. I was a sucker. She knew it.
Tip #2: Ask for lots of good photos and a pre-purchase inspection
By the end of the week, she sent some lousy photos showing a dusty Jeep. She ignored a few specific requests, and I soon forgot that I’d asked for pictures of things like, oh, the engine. I believed her when she told me that the Michelin tires were good and that the paint was flaw-free. The CarFax report that I bought—because she kept “forgetting” to send one—showed one owner who serviced it at a Jeep dealership. I imagined a doting retiree who adored the Jeep until the nursing home staff gently took away their keys.
Tip #3: Have a backup plan
She agreed to knock a few hundred bucks off the Jeep’s price and said she’d pick me up at a nearby airport a few days later. I booked a one-way flight, once again ignoring my own standards for best practice. I always suggest a refundable return flight—just in case.
Tip #4: Pack the tools and parts you might need
My flight included a very short layover in Dallas, so I decided to pack light with a backpack and a single change of clothes. The Transportation Security Administration permits bringing some small tools, so I took with me a reversible screwdriver and a shop towel. That’s it. No wrenches, no ratchets, and none of the easy-to-replace parts that, if broken, could leave me stranded. A coolant sensor would be one example.
Tip #5: Don’t fall in love at first sight
Someone from the dealer picked me up and drove me to the Jeep, which was filthy inside and out, not to mention nearly out of fuel. There were tape remnants on the windshield from where, I later surmised, the previous owner had attached a “For Sale” sign. The roof paint was a bit blistered—a common period Chrysler problem. The tires were Michelins, as promised, but the rears were from 2007 and the fronts showed obvious signs of an alignment issue. On the bright side, it started right up, idled smoothly, and went down the road well. The oil was fresh, which, in retrospect, was another red flag since the dealer made few other efforts to spiff up the Jeep.
I indicated my concerns about misrepresentation. The dealer countered with a weak offer to top off the gas tank. I looked out at the green Jeep, picturing it living a life of repeated repossessions. I had to save it, right? Plus, the sun was setting, the next flight home was 12 hours away, and I hate admitting failure.
Like a fool, I handed over a cashier’s check.
The Price for Turning a Blind Eye
The drive home started fine. But when I stopped for a late lunch about an hour in, I saw that the rear tires were disintegrating. A few phone calls later, I found a tire shop in nearby Amarillo with four all-terrains in stock. There went $800. By the time they finished up, the sun was setting, so I found a hotel and called it an early night.
The next morning was cold enough that I had to use my hotel key card to scrape frost from the windshield. The Jeep started right up, but the heater didn’t seem to be as toasty as before. Another red flag. An hour later, I stopped for gas at the Texas-New Mexico border and decided to pop the hood. Perhaps the coolant was a bit low, I thought.
I was right. I was also very wrong.
A milky substance under the oil cap. A bubbling coolant expansion tank. Sludge erupting from the radiator cap. As a self-professed Cherokee expert, I should have known better. DaimlerChrysler installed a slightly modified cylinder head on 2000 and 2001 Cherokees, which is prone to fracturing. When I picked up the Jeep, I didn’t bother to look to see if the engine had a replacement head. I had my answer.
The Jeep wasn’t running hot, so I weighed my options. It was another 300 miles home to Denver, but that also included climbing the relatively steep Raton Pass separating New Mexico from Colorado. Towing would be costly, and I was already financially deeper into the Jeep than I wanted to be. I hatched a plan to reward the 4.0-liter engine with head gasket sealant-in-a-bottle if it made it the next 90 minutes to AutoZone. If it got me that far, it was another 90 minutes to Colorado Springs and to my friend Aaron, who happens to be a vintage Jeep mechanic. Lyft could handle the final leg.
The Cherokee fired up as if nothing was wrong. This was the last time it would give me this false confidence.
Pour In The Head Gasket Sealant
After whizzing by Capulin, I roll the Cherokee into the AutoZone parking lot and bolt inside. Myriad bottles promising cures to any mechanical malady tempt me with flashy labels. Figuring this wasn’t the time to save a few bucks, I buy the most expensive head gasket sealant. I pour it in, let the Jeep idle, and then top it off with fresh coolant. While following the directions closely, I cannot help but remember that my problem is almost certainly a metal fracture and not a failed gasket.
The Jeep starts, but it idles poorly. A check engine light flickers on. I ignore it and head up Raton Pass. The section of Interstate 25 that carves through the Sangre de Cristo mountain range is just demanding enough to demand a downshift or two from a car with decent power. The Cherokee’s automatic transmission pops from fourth to third before briefly lunging its way into second. Just as that happens, the check engine light begins flashing. Oh no. I back off the throttle, flip the hazard lights on, and slow down to around 40 mph, figuring maybe things will get better once I can coast down from the summit into Colorado.
This turns out to be one of the few wise decisions I make. The check engine light stops flashing, and the Cherokee seems to run better. I ease it back up to the posted limit and train my sights on Aaron’s shop in Colorado Springs.
Soon, my bladder reminds me of the bottle of water I downed at AutoZone. I pull off the highway at a gas station and turn off the XJ’s ignition. Steam pours from under the hood, so I open it and am greeted by a grisly mess of coolant, oil, and head gasket sealer. I let it all cool down for half an hour and then start it up. It cranks and cranks, finally catching and idling like a bucking bronco.
I still have 45 minutes of driving ahead, though now I figure I can always call a tow truck.
Back on the highway, the Cherokee shows no signs of distress aside from a now-permanent check engine light. The 4.0-liter is smooth at speed, with good reserve power. I clench up and trudge into Colorado Springs, dreading the low-speed mile or so I have to drive to reach Aaron’s shop. The rough idling, misfiring Jeep is not happy as it sits at a few traffic lights, but I make it. Aaron claps when he sees me.
The Jeep Is Alive. What Next?
A couple of weeks later, I am back in the Jeep—this time with a new head gasket and a recommendation from Aaron to change the oil after 500 or so miles.
“All that sealant is still working its way around in there,” he says. “How much did you pour in there, anyway?”
The illusion of the decent deal I imagined for this Jeep is shattered. Now, I must debate how far I am willing to go with the thing. On paper it ticks so many boxes, and its Achilles heel—the head—has been addressed. Do I put in the work to make it into a top-shelf Cherokee? Well, I made it this far, and it already has a name: Project Capulin.
I’m really reluctant to buy sight unseen. I would rather squander the air fair vs buying a lemon.
Even then I am reluctant to drive many many miles in a car I really don’t know. I would rather pay to have the vehicle transported or use a trailer till more familiar.
Just Me. But If I am buying long distance I would be buying a collector car or rare car so I would really make sure it is what I want and not likely to drive it home.
Most other cars I can find local or near enough I can drive to them easily.
I refuse to buy till I have been in over and under the vehicle. I once was saved by a Lift from buying a great looking El Camino that had a fist size rust hole in the frame where the control arm bolts.
Also the years I worked at the gas station working on cars. I saw many cars that looked pristine until I got under them. Then you saw frames broken and other damage that you would prevent you from going farther with the purchase.
Buying is always a risk but I have seen enough of the bad side to know what to look for and or walk away from.
Except for Tip #4, the list is eerily similar to advice from a dating service.😒
I always ask myself, would I still enjoy owning (not flipping) this vehicle that overall, appears to be in great condition, and be willing to throw significant discretionary cash at it (however reluctantly), if the (expensive major component: engine, trans, differential) puked it’s guts tomorrow.
If not, simply walk away, and continue the patient search for another prospect with documented repairs.
If so, be prepared to experience some unwelcome remorse (which we generally almost always do with almost any purchase, anyway, because nothing is perfect), and simply rationalize the irrational expenditure.
I have gone through the grief some friends have experienced buy buying sight unseen. I did not lose the money but I saw up front he issues.
I’m too cheap to gamble and too chicken to steal.
Another factor is what kind of car you are buying. You can look in specific spots on some cars and know if it is good or bad right away.
Then some models like this jeep. They had many issues even new. It may be best to avoid a no see deal.
To me buying a car is like the stock market or even playing poker. You can reduce the gamble if you reduce the odds.
Now if I was buying a parts car and the price is right you hold little risk. But to buy a restored car and then find it has major issues that will cost more than it is worth the risks are high.
Exactly right. We didn’t even mention to be very wary of hidden (and obvious) rust, which can infect any old car with a steel body, if not the frame (and concealed windshield supports, such as a ‘Vette has).
Shoppers need to do some basic research on specific models and their years of production. I thought the architecture of the Jeep I-6 engine was generally bulletproof, so I was surprised to read this one had trouble.
These little XJ Cherokees are a good example of practicing sight-unseen precaution. I’m just under 6’ tall, and they’re actually pretty tiny inside, so tall buyers should be aware of that. I felt more cramped in it than I now do in my teeny-tiny Z3, which was my primary concern before I test drove it (seat all the way back). If I was any taller, even an inch, I simply wouldn’t be comfortable. I already ruled-out the earlier M-5’s, which was absolutely too small, just like the new Fiero that I tried to sit in, back in ’84.
Another example is the upscale, roomier R107 SL’s that I initially had interest. A little research revealed, besides the likelihood of pricey concealed bulkhead rust, the early 3.8L V8’s had timing chain issues, because they were single-row (which was corrected in later V-8’s, but there’s a double-row chain/sprocket retrofit that can be done to the 3.8). What finally killed that fantasy for me though (besides the high-potential for pricy rust, rotted wiring, and finicky fuel injection repairs), is the most-common models destined for the USA were all V8’s with A/T’s, and I really wanted a stick, which meant a gray-market Euro-spec I6, which would have been adequate, since I don’t have the urge to burn rubber anymore.
The XJ’s were built on basically a 1/4-ton chassis & drivetrain, not the stouter 1/2-ton as their full-size J-10 based predecessors. The good thing for the XJ fan is, they sold bunches of them, so parts should be plentiful, but even down south, where I live, I really don’t see that many surviving in good, original condition running around (or even their full-size J-10 based Wagoneer siblings of that vintage, either, for that matter).
What is scary is I just watched a video of a Cessna that did not have a pre sale inspection. The owner flew it home.
It has an oil leak and needed engine work. It needed fuel tankers repaired due to leaks. It has corrosion on the main wing spar. Then skin repair to the tail that was not legal. This was just a short visual inspection. This plane was not hood for parts and still was cold and flown.
Double-wow; maybe the purchaser was a confident mechanic that had some previous experience with that particular plane. Reminds me of the circumstances of John Denver’s death.
Well you made it and it is a nice green color. So how much more money do you think you may need to put into it or is that still in the planning stages?
I feel your pain. I recently bought a sight-unseen GX 470. The only way I did things better than you was by having it shipped home. That’s when the fun started.
So, welcome to 4.0L hell . . . Well actually, they are great engines generally. However, Daimler was had a horrible habit of sourcing parts to “Low Cost” suppliers… ie cheap prices, not quality. I can almost guarantee you have the infamous 331 casting head. Look inside the oil cap, you can see that casting number. How do I know this? I was the engineering manager at Jeep for 33 years… I was in charge of the XJ and TJ in 2001 DAM-ler cared less about quality, only cost reductions – Dam the customers. OK, with that off my chest, your options are – change to a later reconditioned cylinder head – or buy a good used one that is pre 200 or post 2003. Be aware, there are minor casting changes so be sure your coil rail will mount up. However, my BIG concern is the bearings…. with that many miles with the engine coolant and oil mixed – Did it damage the bearings? Your other option is find a replacement engine…. used or rebuilt ( $$ ). If the body is in great shape, it might be worth fixing. I love my XJs, they run forever without this cylinder head – 500k is not unusual btw… Google the 2001 cyl head issue – plenty of info out on the web. Good Luck.
Thank you for your input. My daughter has a ’04 WJ w/ the 4.0 liter. I was always concerned about the long 6 cylinder head warping or developing leaks. Perhaps it was just a lucky coincidence, but it has been mostly trouble-free for her. I’ve always been a little bit suspicious of the stuff Chrysler built during the Daimler era.
Now I don’t feel so back over the 06 Jetta I bought a few years ago. Quite the adventure/blunder. Nice green colour though.
I have a 2 door. 4 wheel. 300000 km. Took the air conditioning stuff out. Never had a over heating problem. It’s a 2000. Lovely.
Had an 85, 91 and now a 2000. Engines doing well for its age
Problem now is left door wiring needs repairing as well as plastic door controls need better plastic connectors
Paint finish I agree, was terrible. Great car on snow and mud!
All of these are the joys of an XJ. I love those 4 wheel-drive bricks, but calling them a pain is an understatement and a half.
I used to have a habit of seeing a vehicle on the road, falling in love with it, then going out to get one of my own. Fortunately, for the one XJ I’ve owned, I was feeling flush and went to the dealer for a brand-new 1989 Laredo 2-door, with 4.0, 5-speed, and 4WD. Never had one single issue and loved the thing. It handled great in city driving, ran out wonderfully on the highway, and took me to several deer camps up mountainsides that I’d not even attempted in my CJs. I drove it everywhere for 10 years and foolishly decided to trade it in on a pick-up that I just KNEW I needed.
Other than your friends recommendation of an oil change I’d hold up on doing anything else until running a few simple tests. Blood work. Maybe ask a neurologist about running a CT scan and an MRI. Any other lapses in judgement or memory? Headaches, dizziness ?
When I retired, I started to buy Chrysler Sebring convertibles from Florida … looking for those owned by older folks who no longer could drive or who had passed away … I’d fly to Florida on a one-way ticket, drive them home and sell them .. I live in the Midwest and our cars have a bit of a problem surviving constant Winter driving on salted roads … LOL !!! … as I read this column, it reminded me a day or two of days spent in a motel while trying to fix any number of issues that cropped up on the way home … fingers crossed, that I’d get through the mountains on I-75 on the way home … were the sales worth it ? …. hmmmmm, sometimes … LOL !!!!
I’ve always wondered, if you took the total of all the online auctions that close today, how many are seriously fraudulent vs accurately described. If I take the number of cars I’ve looked at in person as a suggested percentage, buying sight unseen has a 1 in 4 chance of being seriously fraudulent and another 1 in 4 chance of being “mis-described” at some level. So, 1 in 2 or 50%. What say all of you?
Well, the seller said that my van had “a few rust spots” on the driver’s side. Actually, there are a few holes in various places, including the hard-to-fix joint seam where the rear wheel well attaches to the side panels. On the other hand, he did warn me that it would not get far with the carb that someone had jury-rigged to the engine. So. 50% it is. I had it shipped.
So, the cause of the oil/coolant intermix was apparently a failed head gasket, but the author states the cylinder head is a problematic design prone to fracture. Later, he says the head issue has been fixed, but all it has is a new gasket, right? The problematic cylinder head remains and is likely to fail down the road.
Thanks for the story Andrew. We’re shopping for a specific RAV4 right now. But I don’t think I have what it takes to fly out of town to look at one and trust that I can find the specific issues that some of these things can develop. I applaud your stick-to-it-tiveness. Here’s hoping you get the head issue permanently resolved and the other issues sorted. It looks like a pretty nice Jeep.
The Jeep looks really clean. To me, the mechanical issues would be worth it. The XJ is such a great old Jeep that has really come into it’s own styling wise. Where I live, rust has consumed them all – few and far between now.