War-Era Jeeps Keep Rolling in Myanmar

Checking the oil on the Jeep he’s driven as a rural taxi for 30 years, Khin Maung Than explains why he turns away city slickers who keep showing up offering big money for it.

“I know what these Jeeps are worth--they’re priceless,” he says, lighting a cheroot. “They’re very hardy and easy to fix. Nothing is better for the roads around here. In the city, Jeeps are just a new fad.”

Myanmar, also known as Burma, is experiencing Jeep mania.

Car-crazy young people are rediscovering the World War II workhorses that still ply potholed backwaters like Kalaw. They’re customizing the old U.S. Army road warriors into the flashiest rides this long-isolated country has ever seen.

The love affair is rooted in Myanmar’s role as a battleground, impoverishment that followed a military coup in 1962, and an uneven surge in wealth this decade after younger generals ditched socialism for a more open economy.

Every morning, Khin Maung Than pulls his Jeep into the taxi stand in Kalaw, a hill station where British colonists escaped hot summers, and packs in a dozen passengers heading to market 25 miles away.

This past year, he’s been approached by brokers offering up to 300,000 kyats, or about $850. He always refuses, though it’s a lot of cash in Myanmar and 10 times what he paid for the Jeep.

His Jeep is in original condition. But it wouldn’t stay that way long if someone like Maung Thura got his hands on it.

In his sarong and baseball cap, Maung Thura looks like any ordinary 27-year-old bachelor in Yangon, the capital 250 miles southeast of Kalaw.

But he has money by virtue of his aunt, who owns the biggest lottery shop. And the loosened economy means that for the first time, the affluent young like him have lots of imported cars and parts to spend it on.

Maung Thura spent $1,100 on an old Jeep in original condition down to the three-speed transmission. It’s now worth five times that, and only the body and frame remain.

He dropped in a Toyota turbo-diesel engine with a five-speed gearbox and power steering. The body is tarted up with metallic blue paint, flared fenders, chrome roll bar and alloy wheels. There’s a chrome crash bar and fog lights-- though Yangon never gets fog.

“I could never have done this five years ago,” Maung Thura says. “There were no engines, no spare parts.”

Now he has one of the coolest cars in town. Dozens more made-over Jeeps are also turning heads, as are another new youth favorite, customized Volkswagen Beetles.

Just to make sure no one hanging out in the tea shops misses him coming, Maung Thura cranks rap music out of huge speakers tucked under velour bucket seats.

“Girls are always asking for rides,” he says.

Due to historical accident and necessity, Myanmar probably has more Jeeps, in both wartime and early civilian versions, running on original parts than anywhere.

The first Jeeps arrived when Myanmar was a battleground of the China-Burma-India theater. The spunky four-wheel-drives earned an unmatched reputation for ruggedness in the mountains and rice paddies.

Civilians snapped them up after the war. Many became taxis on the northern roads between Mandalay and the Chinese border, stomping ground of hill tribes, smugglers and opium lords.

After 1962, the military government cut Myanmar off from the world. Cars became scarce when mechanics couldn’t keep old clunkers going. Even six years ago, Yangon’s streets seemed virtually empty of cars.

Upcountry, the tough Jeeps survived. They were the only vehicles that could handle the increasingly crumbling roads, and new parts could be turned out on simple lathes if originals wore out.

Nowadays, Yangon suffers worsening traffic jams from fleets of recently imported Toyotas and Nissans. Newer pickups outnumber Jeeps as taxis in the hills.

But Jeeps remain prized.

In Pyin Oo Lwin, a hill station once known as Maymyo, car broker Tun Lin, 26, owns the Jeep everyone envies.

He took the opposite path from Maung Thura and equipped his 1942 model in full GI regalia. Painted olive drab, the Jeep has a spade and ax mounted on the fender and a jerry can of gasoline and spare tire on the back. A metal carbine case hangs on the dash. Only the M-1 is missing.

Are Jeeps the best American technology he’s ever seen? The reply says a lot about Myanmar this past half-century:

“This is the only American product we know.”