"In this gear, the maximum speed is 80 meters per hour," Siegfried Burow
tells me. I can hear the U1450's diesel engine making noise, but our forward
progress is imperceptible. Again, we're moving at 4 feet per minute. I should
explain that this particular Unimog has been outfitted with a set of ultra-low
gears, bringing its total up to 32 speeds -- eight forward, eight low, eight
ultra-low, and eight reverse. Why eight reverse? "Well, let's say you have
to back up a train," Karlheinz Guttman explains with a straight face.
"You might want to start slow and then speed things up." It's true,
you might.
The real answer to the question "Why?" is that since it
was developed in 1946, the Unimog (short for Universal Motor Geraet, or
Universal Motorized Machine) has always been about maximum functionality.
Intended to be a replacement for a conventional tractor, Unimogs never really
set the agricultural world on fire. Farmers, it seems, are just fine with their
tractors. Militaries the world over, however, absolutely love them some Unimog because
of its ability to do damn near everything. Like towing trains, moving at speeds
as slow as 4 feet per minute or -- most important -- being able to get to the
same places as a tank.
Guttman and Burow are curators of the Unimog Museum in Gaggenau,
Germany, halfway between Stuttgart and Strasbourg, France, home to the original
Unimog factory. While small, the museum does house a great collection of
Unimogs, including Prototype #6, the earliest surviving Unimog there is. (Fun
fact: The original track was 127 cm wide because that's the same as two rows of
potatoes.) The collection also contains several early 400 series 'Mogs,
including a bafflingly cute Swiss fire truck with a 40cm wheelbase extension,
because a Swiss law mandated that all fire vehicles must be able to seat eight
people.
What's so incredible about the
prototype is that all the key aspects that define Unimogs to this day are
present in the original. First are the portal axles. Instead of the ends of the
axles entering the center of the wheel, the shafts enter the top of the wheels
and are then geared down. This effectively doubles the truck's ground
clearance. The next key trait is the hyper-articulating suspension. Each solid
axle is able to rotate up to 30 degrees in either direction. (The torque tubes
fit into the transmission via a ball joint.) Moreover, the engine and
transmission are attached to the frame only in three places, on rubberized
mounts. When called for, this setup provides extra twisting ability.
The final piece of the Unimog puzzle are the unique transmissions.
Even the earliest versions provided for several forward speeds (six in 1946!)
and multiple reverse gears. Prototype #6 had two, whereas modern 'Mogs have up
to eight. Reverse on a Unimog works similarly to low gears (transfer case) on
traditional 4x4s. There's a second lever (on manual trucks) for selecting
forward or reverse. All you need do is clutch in and throw the lever, and
suddenly you've gone from fifth gear to fifth in reverse. They also have the
from-the-factory ability to accept geared power takeoff units to run more than
3500 implements, from snow blowers to seed spreaders to grass trimmers.
Behind the museum is a small yet severe Unimog parcourse with an idling 2012 U4000 doka, or double cab. Burow was in the driver's seat and eager to give me a run around the course. Guttman gave me a copy of "Faszination Unimog Museum," a book about the museum's history that happens to contain a photo of Burow building the parcourse. Who better to take me around? Two-dimensional images don't do justice to the severity of the course and its obstacles. From my perspective, the U4000 scaled a wall, climbed a staircase, drove on its door, and rode over boulders. Then, Burow ran the entire thing backwards. The mighty 'Mog didn't even sweat, let alone even kind of get stuck. I was having so much fun, I invited the photo and video crew inside to have a couple laps. As far as I know, they're still smiling.
Behind the museum is a small yet severe Unimog parcourse with an idling 2012 U4000 doka, or double cab. Burow was in the driver's seat and eager to give me a run around the course. Guttman gave me a copy of "Faszination Unimog Museum," a book about the museum's history that happens to contain a photo of Burow building the parcourse. Who better to take me around? Two-dimensional images don't do justice to the severity of the course and its obstacles. From my perspective, the U4000 scaled a wall, climbed a staircase, drove on its door, and rode over boulders. Then, Burow ran the entire thing backwards. The mighty 'Mog didn't even sweat, let alone even kind of get stuck. I was having so much fun, I invited the photo and video crew inside to have a couple laps. As far as I know, they're still smiling.
After the museum, we went to an
abandoned rock quarry near Rastatt that's been converted into a Unimog
playground. "Wonderland" is more apt. There were 45-percent grades,
4-foot-deep water obstacles, rocks, mud pits, tortuous trails, and specially designed
piles of concrete to show off the fact the driver-side front wheel can be 1
meter off the ground. At the same time, the passenger-side rear wheel can also
be 1 meter up. All too often, trucks and SUVs are described as having the
ability to "go anywhere." But I can't think of another production vehicle I've ever
been in that could do one-quarter of what the U4000 did.
Courtesy of MotorTrend.com
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