The Jeep Wave: A Tradition Steeped in History and Camaraderie

Dara Jerde with her Jeep

By Dara Jerde

I’ve owned three Jeeps in my life—all Wranglers, each with its own soul. There was my ’92 Wrangler that rattled like a tin can, a ’08 Wrangler that got me through my early career, and now a ’21 Wrangler that’s my daily ride. Every one of them introduced me to a ritual as old as the brand itself: the Jeep wave. If you’re a Jeep owner, you know the drill—that quick, two-fingered salute swapped between drivers, a silent “You’re one of us.” But where did this tradition come from, and why does it stick around? As a journalist and a die-hard Wrangler fan, I set out to uncover the history of the Jeep wave.

The Jeep wave’s roots stretch back to World War II, when the Jeep first roared into existence. The Willys MB and Ford GPW models—tough, boxy little 4x4s—were built to haul soldiers through hell and back. They became icons of grit and liberty, and the men who drove them formed a tight-knit bond. Out on rugged trails or battle-scarred roads, those soldiers started waving to each other as their Jeeps crossed paths. It was a simple act, but it meant something—a flicker of unity amid the chaos of war.

After the war, many of those GIs brought their Jeeps home, or snapped up surplus models, and that wartime habit tagged along. As Jeep ownership spread in the post-war boom, the wave grew into a civilian tradition. It wasn’t just about the vehicle anymore; it was about the mindset. Jeeps—especially the Wranglers that evolved from those early models—were for the free spirits, the explorers, the ones who’d rather take the rocky shortcut than the highway. The wave became a way to spot your tribe, a rolling high-five for those who lived a little off the grid.

By the time the civilian Jeep CJ models (the Wrangler’s ancestors) hit their stride in the ’50s and ’60s, the wave was a cornerstone of Jeep culture. There’s even a loose etiquette to it, though every owner’s got their own spin. The classic move is lifting your index and middle fingers off the wheel, palm out, like a laid-back peace sign. Some say it’s only for Wranglers or older models—my ’92 got me plenty of cred in that crowd—but I’d argue any Jeep with the right spirit qualifies. (My ’21 Wrangler still gets waves, thank you very much.)

There’s also this unspoken pecking order. Word on the trails is that the driver with the older Jeep—or the one decked out with mods like knobby tires or a lift kit—waves first. My ’92 Wrangler had me playing wave initiator more times than I could count, but with my newer ’21, I’m often the one responding. It’s a light-hearted game—no one’s stopping to argue build dates.

What I love most is how the Jeep wave has hung on, even as the world’s changed around it. The brand’s grown, sure, with crossovers and SUVs aplenty, but among us Wrangler folks—the ones who crave the wind in our hair and the dirt on our fenders—it’s still sacred. It ties us back to those WWII soldiers, to the rugged rebels of decades past, and to every muddy mile I’ve logged in my three Wranglers.

Cruising in my ’21 Wrangler today, I still grin every time another Jeep rolls by and that familiar wave comes my way. It’s more than a gesture; it’s a thread connecting me to the history of this wild, wonderful community—and to the three Wranglers that have shaped my own road. So, to my fellow Jeepers: keep the wave alive. It’s our legacy.

Dara Jerde is a a freelance writer for Veritas Expositae

You can reach her at dara.jerde@veritasexpositae.com