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2019 Jeep Renegade spied out in the cold

The upcoming facelifted Jeep Renegade has been caught again in winter testing wearing only light camo. (Won't it get cold?) Photographed somewhere in Northern Scandinavia where it's currently very chilly, the renewed Renegade shows off a redesigned front bumper, which features a new shape for the lower air intake, and the inward repositioning of the fog lights, cleaning up the front fascia. The rear end of the Renegade wears matching swirly camo, but there's not much to analyze about it: Even the X-shape of the blocky taillights will be retained by the looks of it. These spy shots also provide a look inside, where the dashboard screen has noticeably grown in size, and the lower portion of the dash with its HVAC and audio controls has been redesigned. The refresh of the Renegade is expected to debut sometime this year, making it a 2019 model. The current iteration of the Fiat-related Renegade was first unveiled at Geneva four years ago, so it's certainly due for a 2019 facelift. No rumors of powertrain changes have yet been heard. Related Video: Featured Gallery Jeep Renegade spy photos View 9 Photos Spy Photos Jeep Crossover jeep renegade

2018 Jeep Wrangler Rubicon Alaska Cannonball | 14,000 miles to Deadhorse and back

I've never delayed big adventure long enough to fill a bucket. But I do have a bucket item that dates to 1992: drive from Deadhorse, Alaska, to Tierra del Fuego, Argentina. Twenty-six years later, it's time. But first, I needed a vehicle. And a Jeep Wrangler was not my first choice. Growing up as a kid in the Midwest, I loved Jeeps. But around 10 years ago I went on a camping trip to Death Valley with a colleague, testing the early JK Wrangler against the competition. By the end of it, I couldn't justify the ergonomic and physical punishment for the admittedly massive capability. So two years ago, I bought a 1994 Toyota Land Cruiser project truck to make the journey. I paid too much, and the Cruiser revealed itself to be not a garage project, but the Manhattan Project. I took this as a good omen. Adventure begins in the deep end, so why wait to get there? During a break from discovering enough gremlins to reboot the movie franchise, I had dinner with Jeep's West Coast PR guy. I mentioned my plans for a six-month overlanding trek to Alaska. He said, "You know, we've got a new Wrangler coming out — that might be a good test of the chassis." My outside voice said, "That would be interesting." My inside voice said, "Hmmm." Anything's possible after 10 years, right? I might like it. Might. Many plans have gone awry on the way to this moment. It's taken more than a year to lock in a start date, because Jeep couldn't spare a Wrangler Rubicon. Everyone else in America keeps buying them. A suitable Wrangler was found eventually, but now the deed had to be done in three months, not six. What was going to be a comfortably-paced, backwoods roll up to Alaska and back has turned into the Rubicon Overland Cannonball. I know 14 weeks is plenty of time to drive to the Arctic and back. (Tierra del Fuego is officially off the itinerary.) However, the point of this trip is to fit in as much dirt, as many bucket-list trails, and all the wild America possible. That means my route's about 14,000 convoluted miles of criss-crossing the country in all the cardinal directions. And that's assuming everything goes to plan. Until last week, I was doing this trip with a friend from college who lives in Marietta, Georgia. He was the photo/video guy. Then he had a medical emergency, so the only trip he's taking is to the OR and rehab. Now I'm going by myself, and I think it's important to point out that I have no idea what I'm doing. That isn't modesty, that's truth: zero clue.

2018 Jeep Wrangler Rubicon Alaska Cannonball | Oregon is on fire

Our man Jonathon Ramsey is driving a Jeep Wrangler Rubicon on a 14-week, 14,000 mile journey across North America. Check out his first, second, and third installments.Port Orford, Ore. – On arrival at Battle Rock, just off the southern coast of Oregon, I had completed the (other) Trans-America Trail. It's a worthy Bucket List endeavor even before you get to the bits that challenge a Jeep Wrangler Rubicon. The first tests came in western Oklahoma, tiptoeing through and around swampy farmland. Once I got to Colorado, the difficulty scale increased with each day's driving. By the time I hit wildfires and constant detours in Oregon, I was ready for the trail to end. Here are a few more notes from the last half: When I filled up in Columbia, North Carolina just before getting to Oregon Inlet, the odometer showed 12,294 miles. When I filled up in Port Orford before heading north to Seattle, the odo read 18,008, for nearly 6,000 miles in three weeks. GPSKevin says his trail covers 5,184 miles, but detours are an unavoidable part of the experience. Utah wins my vote for the widest variety of beauty. Crossing into southeastern Utah from Colorado, the landscape is full of desert farms and endless visibility to mountains at the ends of the Earth in Monticello. It's plush high plains greenery on the way up and down Geyser Pass, then the rocky red pioneer-killing cauldron of The Spanish Valley and Moab. Scrub-filled rock formations stretch to Salina, then back up to verdant forests in both halves of Fishlake National Forest. A final rocky stretch west of Sevier, Utah fell into a rolling golden land past Black Rock, another trip into sparer mountains, then the final comedown to Baker, Nevada. Moab gets all the Jeep love, but there's plenty of fun all over the state. In Ely, Nevada I met a Harley rider headed east out of Oregon who told me, "It's all on fire. Whole state. On fire." The haze began not long after leaving Ely. By the time I departed Battle Mountain, Nevada hills showed their own scorched-earth scars, and science-fiction gray skies hid entire mountain chains. Detours were already longer and lengthier in the West because of closed roads, locked gates, and "No Tresspassing" signs. Now fire-centric detours and turnarounds joined the routine. The last day on the trail in Oregon, a 114-mile route from Glendale, through the Rogue River Siskiyou National Forest to Port Orford, was the hardest.